


Disaster (This is a Good One)

by Aisalynn



Category: CW Network RPF
Genre: Alternate Universe, Fluff, M/M, Romance, Romantic Comedy
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-01-25
Updated: 2013-01-24
Packaged: 2017-11-26 20:02:06
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 7
Words: 50,278
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/653907
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Aisalynn/pseuds/Aisalynn
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Jared, a college drop-out, unlucky in love and a self-professed "loser" finds himself at the end of his rope. His boyfriend, Misha, has ditched him at the last moment, right before the family Christmas dinner Jared had planned to bring him to, and thanks to an untimely phone call from his mother, Jared's family thinks Misha is still coming.</p><p>A series of uncomfortable moments later--including awkward phone calls to his exes, a terrible trip to the mall with is best friend where they were escorted out by security, and a run in with a schizophrenic who thought Jared was trying to take him into a secret government lab--and Jared has Jensen--an angry, former lawyer who's dedicated his life to charity work--handcuffed in his car, blackmailed and forced into pretending to be Jared's boyfriend. As the holiday stretches on and the charade he's involved in becomes less and less a lie, Jared is only sure of one thing: he should stop listening to Chad.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Part 1

Jared Padalecki is a loser. 

It’s a fact. Jared Padalecki is an uncool, no good, college dropout, _dateless_ loser. 

And he’s starting to think that’s never going to change. 

“So he just broke it off? And left the country? Just like that?”

Jared takes a swig from the tequila bottle. It’s late enough--and he’s drunk enough--to not care about the lack of shot glasses or cups, or the lack of salt or lemons and really, by now he’s so numb he doesn’t even feel the burn as he gulps the alcohol down. 

And it’s still not numb enough.

“Yeah,” he says, and takes another drink before passing the bottle to Chad. Except he’s sprawled out on the entire couch which means that Chad is in the ragged arm chair four feet away, and he can’t quite get the bottle to him. It slips from his fingers and Chad dives for it, saving the tequila from falling to the floor and dumping all over Jared’s ugly, brownish green carpet. The move looks impossibly fast to Jared and he entertains the thought that for the first time ever, he might actually be drunker than Chad. 

Drunker. More drunk? The drunk _est._

That’s right. He is the drunkest. The drunkest drunk who ever drunked. 

He would think that was something to be proud of, since it’s never happened before, but being more trashed than _Chad_ , a man who considered getting wasted every other night and waking up, still drunk in a stranger’s house to take a piss in a corner before passing out again, as a _positive_ use of his time, is not exactly something Jared has ever aspired to. 

Just more proof that his current loser status is not likely to change. 

“That sucks, man.” Chad takes his own gulp of tequila and Jared decides this is good. He doesn’t like being drunker than Chad. 

More drunk. Whatever. 

“Yeah,” he says again. He’s not sure exactly what they’re talking about anymore. 

“So did he tell you why he was suddenly fleeing the country?”

Oh right. Misha. Misha who he dated for two months. Misha who was funny and sweet if a little weird and out there and who might have had an unhealthy obsession with the Queen of England, but who didn’t have any family in Texas and had agreed to go with Jared down to San Antonio for Christmas. Misha, who was supposed to be the proof that Jared _wasn’t_ wasting away his life in Loserdom, that even if he had no college degree, a job he hated, an apartment that came with moldy walls, a fridge that liked to stop working every now and then and a carpet so old and stained that he wasn’t sure what color it originally used to be, he was at least successful in one aspect of his life. 

Misha, who called Jared less than eight hours ago to break up with him, give his apologies for missing out on Christmas dinner, and explain that he was leaving the country for an uncertain amount of time. 

Fucking Misha. 

Jared sighs and makes gimme motions toward the bottle, remembering why he’d set out to be so drunk to begin with. “I don’t know, Chad, he said something about gathering the minions and completing the final plans for his mass world take over or something. I’m not sure.” 

Chad pauses in the act of handing over the tequila, contemplating this. “Misha’s fucking nuts, dude.” 

Jared pouts at the bottle-- _just_ out of reach--and sighs again. “Yeah.” 

“Guess there’s only one thing for you to do,” Chad says, voice somber and full of wisdom. 

Jared blinks blearily at him. “What’s that?” 

Chad slaps the tequila bottle in Jared’s still out reached hand. “Drink more.” 

Jared’s cool with that.

Jared regrets being so cool with that when he wakes up the next morning, half on, half off the couch, upper body hanging so far off the cushions that his face is pressed against the floor. His neck hurts, his head is pounding, his mouth is dry and tastes sour and he really hopes that the stain he sees when he opens his eyes used to be a form of food and not some kind of bodily fluid.

He blinks at the stain for several long seconds, trying to will away his headache. It takes a few of those seconds to notice that his headache is pulsing with an insistent, annoying rhythm and it’s several more seconds after _that_ when he figures out that the high-pitched noise accompanying the rhythm is _not_ actually in his head. 

“ _Dude,_ ” Chad groans from somewhere to his left. “Answer your phone.” 

With a great effort, Jared pushes himself off the floor and sits up on the couch. He takes a moment to stare at Chad. He’s folded and twisted into the chair, his head tipped back at what looks to be an extremely uncomfortable angle, mouth open and drooling. Jared wipes self consciously at his own mouth and shakily gets up from the sofa, one hand going to his head when the movement makes his headache worse. 

He’s never drinking again. 

Or at least, he’s never out-drinking Chad again. 

The phone is still ringing, (and by what has to be the twentieth ring Jared is once again wishing he’d bought an answering machine) and it’s his house phone so that means it can only be one person: 

His mama. 

He takes a deep, steadying breath and picks up the phone, praying that he won’t sound as hung over as he feels. “H’lo?” Yeah, that didn’t work. He clears his throat and tries again. “Hello?”

There’s a slight hesitation on the line then, “Jared?”

“Yeah, Mama. It’s me.” 

“You sound horrible. You’re not getting sick are you?”

“Nah, just woke up is all.” 

“Oh.” Jared’s stomach twists as the concern in her voice changes to a tone of slight disappointment. “Jared, you realize it’s past one in the afternoon?”

Jared clears his throat again, shifting guiltily even though his mother can’t see him. “Uh, no. I hadn’t realized that.” 

“Were you out partying with Chad again?” 

“Not…exactly partying. It was just Chad and me here at the apartment.”

She sighs and Jared’s stomach drops even further. He hates disappointing his mama. “I see.” She says nothing for a moment, leaving Jared to wallow in guilt. She’d long since stopped giving him lectures on his choices in life, leaving her disapproval to be expressed instead with only long, weary sighs and sad looks, all of which somehow made Jared feel worse than any lecture ever could. “Well,” she finally says after the silence had stretched too long, “did you get the time off from the factory so you could come down here this Christmas?” 

“Yeah,” Jared breathes out, relieved that he had something positive to say. “All four days.” 

“Good. And what about that boy you’ve been seeing? Misha? Was that his name?” 

Jared hesitates, not sure what to say. Should he tell her that they broke up? 

“Jared?” 

“Yeah, Mama. His name‘s Misha.” He pauses, still unable to bring up the fact that they were no longer together. 

“Very weird name,“ she mumbles, not for the first time. “Well, is he coming with you? We’re all excited to meet him. It’s been a long time since you’ve dated anyone long enough for us to meet them. Megan is especially thrilled,” she teased, and he could imagine the smirk on her face. “She’s been dying to get you back for how you treated Ben when they got engaged. I think he had to stop her from actually writing out a list of questions for her to interrogate Misha with.” 

His mama gives a short laugh and Jared feels his stomach clench, the idea that he’s getting ready to let them all down again making him feel physically ill. “Jared?” she asks again when he stays silent. “He is still coming isn’t he?”

Jared takes a shaky breath, preparing to tell her that no, he’s actually out of the country and for all he knew he would remain so, but what comes out is, “Of course, Mama. We’ll both be there on the 23rd.” Afterwards, he wants to smack himself, but he can’t deny the way he automatically relaxed at his mother’s happy “Good.” 

“What time are you driving down, honey?”

“Um, uh,” Jared stutters, too busy panicking and thinking _what the hell did I just do_ to really focus on the question. “I don’t know. Sometime in the morning, I think,” he mutters distractedly.

Shit. Shit, shit and _fuck._

He is a moron. 

“So, really sometime in the evening then?” she asks, and if Jared wasn’t freaking out he’d roll his eyes at the familiar comment.  
“I’m not always that late,” is the expected protest.

“Uh huh, sure. Just give me a call when you finally leave. I’ll see you in two days. Love you.”

“Yeah, love you too, Mama,” he replies automatically, barely noticing the click and dial tone as his mother hangs up. Feeling numb, he slowly puts down the phone before collapsing back on the couch with a groan. He brings one arm up to cover his eyes, as if to block out the whole situation. 

Two days. 

He is expected back at his parent’s house in two days. With his _boyfriend._

“You’re fucked, man.” Chad pipes up from this spot on the easy chair. 

Jared can’t help but agree.

Jensen rings the bell in his hand, smiling brightly at the mom and two kids walking up the mall entrance. “Happy Holidays!” he says as they pass him by. The mother gives him a tight smile in return but ignores the red donation bucket, herding her children quickly through the doors.

Jensen doesn’t sigh.

Instead he turns his smile on the man walking ten or so feet behind her. “Good morning!” The man grunts and sticks his hand out as he passes, dropping some change into the bucket. Jensen beams at him. “Thank you! And have a merry Christmas!” he calls to the man’s back. Then he leans over slightly to look through the slit in the bucket. There were a few more pennies added to the meager pile of change and now a crumpled gum wrapper sitting on top of the coins. Jensen scowls and turns back around, wanting to snap out that this was _not_ a trash can, but the man was already in the mall. 

With a concentrated effort, he wipes away the grimace and returns to facing the parking lot. There are two more people walking up the sidewalk: two bickering men, one short blond with squinty eyes, and a tall, shaggy haired dude who looks like he could use a good night’s sleep. Jensen smiles at them and rings the bell again, causing the taller man to cringe and reach for his head as if in pain. 

Oops. Not just a lack of sleep then. More likey a hangover. 

Still, he doesn’t let that deter him from speaking up as they got closer. “Merry Christmas, guys. Would you like to donate some change to charity? The money is going to purchase food for those who can’t afford a Christmas dinner.” He puts on his best “pleasant, but earnest” face as he talks. 

The blond pauses his tirade long enough to throw out a careless, “Sorry dude, no change,” before picking up right where he left off. The tall guy is too busy looking and being miserable to even glance at Jensen. 

“Seriously man, this will work,” the blond is saying. “Just go in there, pick someone out and trudge out a pathetic sob story. Use those puppy eyes of yours. You know those things are enough to convince any woman you are trustworthy enough for them to go back to your parents with you.” 

Tall Guy huffs a little. “Chad, you do realize that I’ve been dating a _man_ for the past two months and that my family actually expects me to bring home one?”

The other guy just waves a hand in the air. “Whatever dude. I still don’t get that. I mean-- _dick._ That’s just gross.” He pauses, looking thoughtful. “Unless it’s mine.” As if realizing what he just said he shoots a panicked look at his companion. “But that is not an invitation.”

His friend just sighs and shakes his head. “Trust me, Chad,” he says. “I’m really, _really_ not interested.”

A little bewildered by this bit of conversation he heard, Jensen watches the two make their way into the mall. His eyes narrow as they pause by the Coke machine just inside the entrance and the blond guy reaches into his pocket, pulling out a handful of change and depositing a few quarters. Jensen grinds his teeth together and turns his back on them. His scowl this time is a little harder to smooth away as the next few people pass him by, his mind still stuck on the odd pair. 

Assholes.

Jared’s head hits the table with a loud _thunk._ Groaning, he slumps further onto the wood and wraps his arms around his head, trying to hide from the rest of the world.

It’s been a horrible two days. 

“Seriously, dude. Don’t give up. You’ve got like, three hours until you have to start driving to your parents. That’s plenty of time.” 

Jared can hear Chad pace back and forth on the other side of the table, shoes squeaking against the kitchen tiles. He imagines Chad’s arms waving around in the broad, careless gestures he’s prone to making when he gets worked up about something. Usually, Jared would be watching him, amused, just waiting for him to smack himself in the face or something as his motions got more and more erratic, but right now he can’t work up the energy to even lift his head. 

He keeps his head buried in his arms, despairing. 

“Have you called Milo? Maybe you can talk him into skipping out on Alexis’s family and going to yours instead. He owes you a favor, considering it was you who introduced them to begin with and then dumped her, leaving them free to run off together, and god knows that bitch is so crazy, her family probably is too.” 

“Called him,” Jared mutters into the wood. His voice is muffled and his breath makes his face and the spot of table it’s pressed against damp with humidity. “He reminded me that both he and Alexis hate me now and then he hung up.” 

“Shit.” Chad keeps pacing. “Well, what about your other exes?”

“Riley also hung up on me. Jason laughed for two minutes before hanging up.” 

Chad’s shoes stop squeaking. “Man, Jay. Are there any exes of yours that _don’t_ hate you?”

Jared thinks about this for a moment. It’s true, almost every relationship he’s been in, no matter how short or long (mostly short), ended up with the other party hating him, usually because of how he’d abruptly end things, right around the time things started to get serious. The only exception to that would be Sandy, who tried to be his friend after a short period of not talking. But that situation was different from the rest. Sandy had been-- 

He cuts that thought short, sitting up with a sigh. “No,” he mutters to Chad, rubbing a hand wearily against his face. “I think we should just give up. I’m tired. These have been the worst fucking two days of my life.”

Chad rolls his eyes. “They haven’t been that bad.”

Jared gapes at him. “Chad, I got kicked out of the mall for _sexual harassment,_ ” he says incredulously. “They threatened to call the cops on me! And that was after two separate guys tried to kick my ass.” When Chad has no reaction to this Jared goes on. “At the park I got threatened to be reported to the police three separate times, and the last guy I talked to was a _paranoid schizophrenic_ , who freaked out because he thought the whole thing was some plot made up by the military who wanted to kidnap him and stick a _microchip_ into his _brain._ How is that not ‘that bad?’”

Chad just shrugs. “I’ve had worse days.” 

Jared stares at him in disbelief for a moment before figuring that, yeah, Chad probably has. It’s a comfort to know, Jared thinks, that no matter how screwed up and pathetic his life gets, Chad’s will probably always be more so. 

“So you see,” Chad says seriously, gesturing dramatically with his hands, “things can always get worse. And you’ve still got three hours. We need ideas.” 

Jared slumps in his seat. “I’ve got nothing.” His stomach churns as he thinks about showing up at his parents’ house without a boyfriend, imagining the expressions of disappointment and pity on their faces as he explains that he failed at yet _another_ relationship, just to add one more thing to the constantly growing list of things he’s failed at. 

“Come on, Jay,” Chad wheedles. “You can’t just give up like this” His argument is cut off by the doorbell ringing. He raises an eyebrow at Jared. “Expecting someone this early in the morning?” Jared shakes his head, no idea who would be at the door. “Maybe it’s one of your exes. Decided they were gonna go with you after all,” Chad suggests, but his tone is filled with doubt. 

Jared snorts and shakes his head as he gets up and walks out of the kitchen. “Somehow, I don‘t think that‘s going to happen.” When he swings open his front door and sees the person on the other side, the thought that immediately runs through his mind is that he _wishes_ this guy was one of his exes. 

Though looking at him, he’d be hard pressed to try to find a reason to break it off. 

“Good morning.” The guys smiles at Jared, skin crinkling around bright green eyes. “I’m collecting charity donations to build a new community center for downtown. Would you care to take a few moments and…” he trails off as Chad steps up behind Jared, standing on his tiptoes to peer over his shoulder. The guy’s eyes widen. “Hey!” he gasps, abruptly losing the pleasant manner and polite smile. “You guys are the assholes from the mall the other day!”

Jared slides a nervous glance at Chad. Is this one of the guys he talked to? He couldn’t remember all of them. He smiles uncertainly and rubs a hand over his neck. “Uh…” He really hopes this guy isn‘t about to threaten to kick his ass. He’s had enough of that already. “I don’t know what you are talking about?”

The man narrows his eyes. “Yeah. You are the guys who walked right by the donation bucket, saying you didn’t have any change on you and then stopped. To buy. A Coke.” He punctuates his sentence with sharp jabs at the air in front of him with the big, yellow envelope in his hands, face screwed up in an angry, dangerous expression. 

Chad scoffs behind Jared. “Please. Everyone walks by those buckets. The only people who don’t are the ones with some trash they want to get rid of.” 

If possible, the guy’s expression darkens further and Jared is suddenly feeling like the lowest of the low, right down there with puppy kickers and people who skin cats for fun. “Right,” the guy bites out. “And I doubt you would be interested in donating some money for a community center either.” When Chad just scoffs again, he gives an irritated roll of his eyes and turns around, ready to dismiss them and walk back to the street 

He barely reaches the bottom step of the stoop before Chad lunges forward and snatches his wrist. “Wait!” The guy jerks back around, staring at Chad in shock. 

“Dude,” Jared shoots Chad an incredulous glance. “What are you doing?” 

Chad gives him an intense look, not letting go of the guy’s arm. “Think, Jared, it’s perfect.”

“Perfect for what?” He has no idea what he’s talking about. 

“Yeah, I would like to know that too,” the guy snaps, tugging at his arm in an attempt to dislocate Chad. He fails, which isn’t surprising. Jared knows from experience that Chad has a grip like a particularly clingy octopus--you just can’t get him off you. 

“Your parents. _Christmas,_ ” Chad answers. “It’s perfect.” 

Oh. Oh no. No no no. 

Jared shakes his head. “We can’t do that,” he denies, trying hard not to cower at the truly fantastic glower the donation guy is giving them both. The only thing worse that would be than Jared showing up at his parents without a boyfriend would be Jared showing up with a boyfriend who _hates him._

But Chad shakes his head back at him. “I’m telling you, man. This’ll work. Hey!” he turns to the guy, jerking him a little closer. “What are you doing for Christmas?”

The guy scowls. “Not that it’s any of your business,” he snaps, “but I’m volunteering at the local soup kitchen.” 

“See!” He turns to grin triumphantly at Jared. “It’s perfect. _He’s_ perfect.”

Jared takes a long look at the man. The man certainly _looks_ perfect, tall and fit, which is obvious even under the light jacket and scarf he’s wearing, with light brown hair, strong jaw line and bright green eyes--eyes that are hard and glaring from beneath furrowed brows, even as they flick back and forth between him and Chad in confusion. 

Jared sighs. As much as it would fix all his problems to introduce this guy to his parents as his date for Christmas, he already knew there was no way he could talk him into it. “Forget it, Chad. This was a stupid idea anyway. I’m just gonna have to call my family and explain everything.” He considers using the break up with Misha to beg out of Christmas dinner this year. His stomach drops at the idea of skipping Christmas, but the thought of facing his family as he is--a _failure_ \--is even worse. 

Chad shakes his head. “I’m sorry man, but as your best friend, I can’t let you do that.” 

“What are you guys taking about? And what do I have to do with it?” The guy snaps, trying futilely to tug his wrist from Chad’s grasp. 

Chad reaches behind him. “Really, Jay,” he says, “this is for the best. I’m just looking out for you, man.” With that he pulls a pair of handcuffs from his back pocket.

“Chad, what’re you--”

“Hey! What do you think--”

There’s a flash of silver and a snap and both Jared and the man fall silent, staring in shock at the shining metal cuff clasped around the guy’s wrist.

“Chad, what the hell are you _thinking?_ ” _Thump. Thump thump thump._

“Come on, Jay. It’s the perfect solution!”

“ _Kidnapping_ is your perfect solution? Are you out of your _mind?_ ” _Thump thump. Crash._

Jensen jerks at what sounds like a dish being broken in the kitchen, where the two crazies who’d kidnapped him were arguing. God, he should have known that seeing them at the mall yesterday was some kind of bad omen. As soon as he recognized them at the door he should have hightailed it out of there. 

But really, who expects to ring a doorbell, simply asking for a helpful donation, and then have a pair of handcuffs slapped on them by a couple of complete _nutcases?_ He’d been too shocked to react at first, and by the time he did the short blond one--Chad--had pulled him into the apartment. As soon as he’d realized what was happening he’d struggled, shouting and trying his hardest to get away from the man, but the guy was quicker than Jensen had expected, and he immediately hooked the other end of the handcuffs around the armrest of the only solid piece of furniture in the whole run-down apartment--an ancient, oak rocking chair. He then pushed Jensen down onto the chair, grabbed a washcloth and some duct tape from the kitchen and gagged him, stopping all hope that some neighbors would hear his shouts and come to help. 

After, the taller one--Jared, according to the blond--had dragged his friend into the kitchen, leaving Jensen alone with nothing to do but listen to them argue and pray that Jared manages to talk some sense into his friend and they let him go. 

He tugs fruitlessly against the handcuffs in question. It’s pointless, they’re not the flimsy, cheap kind of handcuffs you can get at any sex store or magic shop, but actual handcuffs, the kind that cops use, and Jensen knows there’s no way of getting out of them. He’d tried standing up and moving the rocking chair as soon as the guys left the room, but the chair was _heavy_ , and with the way Jensen was cuffed he couldn’t stand properly without breaking a wrist. 

So. He’s stuck here. With two completely _insane_ people, one of which, Jensen figures from the conversation he’s heard, is supposed to take him home and introduce him as his boyfriend. 

Great. Just fucking great. 

“What’s the problem, Jay?” he hears Chad ask through the flimsy apartment walls. “It’s not like the guy is going to have a great Christmas anyway. You heard him--he’s volunteering at the soup kitchen, what a great time _that’s_ going to be.”

He hears Jared’s exasperated sigh, even over the steady _thump thump_ as he--presumably--paces the kitchen floor. “That’s not the point. What if he has family or something expecting him later, huh? You ever think of that? Jesus, Chad, you’re going to get us sent to jail!” 

“Well, let’s ask him.” There’s the sound of a chair being pushed back and then Chad comes marching into the living room, a determined expression on his face, Jared trailing unhappily behind him. Jensen tries to back away as Chad reaches for the tape over his mouth, but it’s not like he can go anywhere, handcuffed as he is, so all he manages to do is wiggle a little bit and make a sound of protest that sounds more like a cry of pain as Chad rips the tape off his face. 

He spits out the washcloth and curses. “Shit! That hurt.”

“Sorry.” 

Jensen sees Chad’s smirking face and knows that he isn’t. Sadist. “Let me go,” he demands. 

“Sorry, can’t do that.” He shrugs carelessly and Jensen decides that he hates him. Scratch that. Despises him. _Loathes_ him, even.

“So tell me, you got any family waiting for you to come around this Christmas? Friends?”

He glares at him. Yeah. There was definite loathing here. “I don’t have to answer any of your questions.”

“Ha!” Chad punches the air. “See, Jared! I told you no one’s expecting him. That‘s the kind of thing you say when you don‘t want to admit the truth.” He turns to his friend with a smug grin, the kind someone wears when they’ve just won a bet with their buddies, and Jensen wonders if there is a deeper form of hatred than loathing, because that’s definitely what he’s feeling at the moment. 

Jared rubs a weary hand across his face. “Chad, come on. We don’t even know if the guy is gay.” 

“Why is that a problem? He could just pretend to like you like that. It can’t be that hard. I mean, I couldn’t do it, but I know you better. He doesn’t.” Jared just gives him a flat, frustrated look and Chad huffs and turns back to Jensen. “Are you gay?” 

Jensen grits his teeth. He is, but he isn’t going to tell them that. “Like I said, I don’t have to answer any of your questions.” 

“Ha!” Chad says again, turning to Jared triumphantly. “See? If he was straight he totally would have said so to get out of this.”

Jared stares at Jensen, an uncertain, thoughtful look on his face. Jensen stares back, wordlessly pleading. Jared sighs. “I’m sorry.” 

Jensen’s stomach drops. “Oh, no. No. I am _not_ doing this. No way.” He tugs futilely at the handcuffs once more as he starts to panic, flicking his gaze from Chad’s smug face to Jared’s apologetic one. 

“I really am sorry, man, but I’m desperate here.” 

“Fuck your desperation!” Jensen shouts. “I’m not doing this. You all are crazy, and I don’t care what you say, the _second_ I get a chance I’m calling the cops on your asses.”

Chad walks forward and braces his arms against Jensen’s chair, leaning down and glaring in what he probably thought was a threatening manner. “Then I guess we just won’t give you the chance.”

Jensen scoffs. “Yeah, right. Because it’s absolutely _normal_ for a guy’s boyfriend to show up at a family dinner in _handcuffs._ ”

Chad stares at him silently for a moment, contemplating. Jensen doesn’t look away, chin jutted out in challenge. Finally, Chad smiles, slow and surprisingly a bit intimidating. “Well, we’ll just have to think of a way you won’t call the cops then.” He steps back and very slowly, very purposefully turns to face the coffee table at the center of the room, where Jensen’s keys, wallet and cell phone are sitting on the yellow envelope he had been carrying around all day. Jensen sucks in a nervous breath as Chad plucks that yellow envelope from beneath them.

“So, what’s in here?” Jensen tries not to react to the rising panic he felt as Chad waves the envelope in the air. “Let me guess,” Chad slants a smirking glance at him. “Charity donations, right?” Jensen doesn’t say anything and Chad taps one corner against his mouth, and fake thoughtful look on his face. “Hmm… I wonder how much you managed to collect.” 

He untwists the tab holding the flap closed and looks inside, ignoring Jared’s uncertain “Chad…” from behind him. He pulls out the slip of paper holding the total of all the checks and cash donations and his eyes widen in sincere surprise. “Holy shit, Jared. There’s over four thousand dollars in here.”

“What?” Jared stalks forward and snatches the paper from Chad’s hand. His jaw practically drops as he reads what’s on it. He raises wide eyes to Jensen. “You managed to raise four thousand dollars just this morning?” Beside him Chad pulls out a stack of checks from the envelope and Jensen nearly twitches as he watches him shuffle through them.

“Four thousand and thirty-two, actually,” he snaps. “And yes, I did. Not everyone are cheap, kidnapping scumbags like you.” 

Jared flushes and ducks his head, biting his lip, and Jensen almost feels guilty. Then the pressure around his wrists reminds him, oh yeah, this guy _kidnapped_ him, and the feeling vanishes. 

Jared avoids Jensen’s eye and mutters a low, “Enough,” to Chad, who is still thumbing through the checks, and plucks them out of his hand, stuffing both them, and the paper with the total into the envelope, which he tosses back onto the coffee table before collapsing onto the sofa, burying his head in his hands with a tired sigh. Chad however, takes a seat in the armchair, pulling it closer to Jensen so he can grin smugly at him. 

“So here’s what I’m thinking,” he says to Jensen, that self satisfied little smirk back on his face. “I think that to raise that much money in so little time, you must _really_ care about all this charity crap. In fact,” Chad raises his voice over Jensen’s when he tries to tell just how much it’s _not_ crap, “I know you do.” He starts ticking off his fingers. “The community center. The soup kitchen. The donation bucket at the mall. That’s a lot of volunteer work for someone who only feels guilty once a year about the poor starving kids at Christmas. So I think you care _a lot._ ” 

Jensen grits his teeth. Says nothing. 

Chad smirks again and leans forward on his chair so he’s only a foot away from Jensen’s face. “So here is how it’s going to go. I’m going to take that,” he gestures to the envelope on the table, “into safekeeping. And you are going to go with my buddy here and keep him company for Christmas. Eat some turkey and ham, make his parents feel proud of him and when you come back I’ll place the envelope right in your hands, no harm. If you try to escape or call the police, all Jared does is have to text me and poof--the money disappears. Alright?”

“ _Jesus,_ ” Jared breathes from the couch. He stares at Chad incredulously. “I’ve been your best friend for years. How did I not know you were this scary?” 

Chad smirks at him. “Never had a reason to show this side of me to you.”

“The side of you that doubles as a criminal mastermind?”

Chad shrugs. “Yes, exactly. Now,” he turns back to Jensen, leaning in close to stare into his eyes. “Do we have a deal?”

Jensen can feel the muscle in his jaw twitch as he tries to control the amount of anger and sheer _frustration_ that runs through him. He would like nothing more at the moment than to punch this slimy fucker right in his smirking, squinty eyed face. But the cuffs are hard against his wrist as he flexes it and it doesn’t look like he is going to be free any time soon. 

He doesn’t have many options. 

“Fine,” he hisses. “I’ll do it.”

Chad does another fist pump in the air and Jared looks a weird a combination of horrified and relieved and Jensen thinks again, that he really, really hates them both. 

This Christmas is going to suck.


	2. Part 2

Roughly an hour and a half after he lets Chad talk him into a decision that would solve his family situation but might just land him in jail for life, Jared starts the four hour drive from Dallas down to San Antonio. With him, handcuffed to the passenger side door, is the surly, glaring man who is supposed to pretend to be his boyfriend. A boyfriend who, apparently, refuses to talk to him.

Jared sighs. “Look,” he tries again, “I really am sorry about this.”

No reaction. 

“It’s just that my boyfriend broke up with me just a few days ago, actually fled the country, though I don’t think it was from me, just--well, he had some weird ideas about taking over the world or something. He might have been insane, now that I think about it, but that’s not the point.” He looks away from the road to spare a glance at his companion.

Yup. Still glaring. 

“Anyway, my family has really been looking forward to meeting him. I mean, really. It’s been a long time since I’ve brought anyone home, and I just can’t bear to disappoint them. Not on Christmas anyway.” 

Silence. 

Jared bites his lip, takes a nervous breath. “You know,” he says tentatively. “This might not be as horrible as you think. I mean,” he adds quickly when he sees the guy shoot him an incredulous look, “obviously you don’t want to hang around _me_ , the guy who--” he lets out a nervous little chuckle, “the guy who kidnapped you, but my family is really great. I mean, really. So, you never know, this Christmas might not be so bad.”

“Right,” the guy finally says, voice scathing. “I’m handcuffed to your car, being driven four hours away from my home _against my will_ , and I’m going to spend my Christmas pretending to be in love with you, a guy so pathetic that he has to kidnap an innocent bystander in order to get a date for Christmas, all the while wearing cheap Wal-Mart clothes that I didn’t even pick out, and you think this whole experience might not _be so bad._ ” 

“We offered to go pick up your actual clothes, you know.”

“Oh, right. Like I was going to let _you two_ know where I live.” He sneers at Jared, brows pulled down in an angry scowl and Jared can’t look at him, wishes, briefly, that he hadn’t opened his mouth at all. 

The silence was better. 

And it seems, now that the guy has started talking, he isn’t going to stop any time soon. “What’s more, I’m being forced to let down the people who are depending on me this Christmas. The people at the soup kitchen, and the can food drive.” He makes a frustrated tug against the handcuff on his wrist. “I can’t even let them know I’m not going to be there. They’re just going to be a person short, thinking I just didn’t bother to show up. And that _Chad,_ ” he all but spits the name, turning to point violently at Jared. “I don’t trust him with that money. For all I know he could be lying to me and by the time this whole joke of a holiday is over, the money will be gone, spent on drugs or something.” 

“Hey, now,” Jared interrupts him. “Chad wouldn‘t do that. He‘s a good guy.” 

The guy snorts. “Right. I’m sure the guy who _kidnapped_ charity donations to blackmail my complacency is an upstanding citizen. A person to be admired. He’s a ’good guy.’ ” He sneers the last words and makes little air quotations with his hands, which Jared thinks looks funny, considering one hand can’t move further than a few inches away from the door handle, but he doesn’t say anything. 

He has a feeling that any type of humor he tries will just make things worse. 

Jared bites his lip, considering. “Listen,” he starts, “I’m really sorry about using the money against you, and I know you don’t want to hear any more justifications or excuses but I promise, I _promise_ , that nothing is going to happen to it. Chad isn’t going to spend it or lose it, or whatever, alright? I _swear_.” He hears a disbelieving huff from beside him and Jared wishes that they weren’t driving along an interstate highway, that he could pull over and look the guy straight in the eyes and try to convince him he’s telling the truth. As it is though, he just has to try to make his voice as persuasive as he can. He runs a hand through his hair and huffs out his own sigh. “Hey, if I lend you my cell phone so you can call the soup kitchen and stuff, let them know you’re not coming, will you promise not to say anything about…this?” He waves a hand in the air, as if that one gesture could encompass the whole screwed up mess between them. 

The man turns to face him and Jared looks away from the road to meet his surprised expression. “Really? You’d let me call them?” he asks. 

Jared shrugs. “Sure. Believe it or not, but I don’t actually want to ruin your life,” he looks again at him, meeting his eyes with a sincere, almost pleading look. “I just need you to help fix mine.” 

He keeps eye contact with Jared for a few, silent moments, as if studying him, before looking away, uncomfortable. “Fine,” he says shortly. “Give me your phone.” 

Jared digs it out of his pocket, but doesn’t immediately toss it over. “I’m serious, though. No mention of any of this, or…” he lets that sentence trail off, self disgust roiling through him as he thinks about it’s end: _or I’ll call Chad._ He doesn’t want to be the kind of person who uses a threat like that, no matter what kind of screwed up situation he now is in. But as he glances over, it’s clear from the other man’s face that he doesn’t have to speak the words, he got their meaning anyway. Silently, he hands over the phone. 

The guy takes it from him, and Jared goes back to staring intently at the road, trying to give the man the illusion of privacy even if they both know he’ll be listening closely to everything the guy tells the people he calls. 

“Danneel?” he says into the phone. “Yeah, this is Jensen.” 

Jared’s hands clench and flex on the steering wheel, self disgust once again rising when he suddenly realizes he didn’t even bother to ask the guy his _name._

“Hey, I know I’m supposed to work the soup kitchen this Christmas Eve, but something’s come up and well, I can’t.”

_Something’s come up._ Such a diplomatic way of putting things. That’s like saying the Civil War was merely a small disagreement between the North and the South. But the guy’s--Jensen’s--tone doesn’t give anything away. He sounds perfectly calm, pleasant even. Jared relaxes slightly, the nagging little doubts that the man would be able to pretend to like Jared enough to fool his family quieted. 

“What? No, nothing like that,” Jensen is saying. “Nothing wrong. I just…” he trails off, and Jared sees him shoot a quick glance at him before sighing. “Yeah. Yeah, it’s my family. Guess they decided they wanted me there for Christmas after all. Who’d have thought? Maybe not having me there does worse for their image than my presence actually does.” 

His tone is flat and just a little bit bitter, and Jared is suddenly curious. He’d wondered why Jensen had been spending his Christmas volunteering to do charity work rather than spend time with his own family, but he hadn’t felt it was his right--considering he was the man who kidnapped him--to ask. Still isn’t, Jared reminds himself. And he suppresses his questions as Jensen wraps up the phone call and quickly makes another, this time to the organizer of the can food drive that was happening later this evening. 

Damn. This guy was like a one man charity himself. Didn’t he ever do anything else? 

Jensen snaps the phone shut and hands it back to Jared with a gruff, “Here.” He doesn’t say thanks, but Jared didn’t really expect him to. As soon as Jared takes the phone he sees Jensen turn back to the window, attempting to cross his arms but failing, thanks to the handcuff that clasped around his wrist. With a frustrated huff he slumps down into the seat, scowl once again on his face. 

The car is silent again.

The rest of the four hour drive passes in a very tense quiet, with the exception of when Jared tells Jensen a few things he needs to know about his family, and then Jared is turning on to his parents’ street. “That’s the house right there.” He points to a house near the end of the street and Jensen nods, lips pressed into a thin, hard line. He’s staring at it like it’s the gallows, not a modest two story with a porch and a few trees in the front yard.

Jeff and Lauren are already there, taking up driveway space with their gigantic, “family sized,” SUV so Jared parks his significantly smaller car on the street. He pulls the keys out of the ignition and takes a deep breath, running a nervous hand through is hair. “Okay. This is it.” 

Jensen grunts. Doesn’t look at him. 

“It’s just a few days, shouldn’t be too hard right?” he asks, though he isn’t sure if he’s trying to reassure Jensen, the guy he forced into this, or himself. 

Jensen still doesn’t look at him. “You gonna uncuff me?”

“Um. Yeah. Hold on.” Jared shifts a little awkwardly, digging into his pocket to get the tiny key Chad had handed to him after hooking Jensen to the car handle four hours ago. He leans across Jensen to get to his wrist, but hesitates as he’s reaching for it. “Uh, there’s one more thing.”

Jensen groans. “What now?” He’s leaning, Jared notices, as far back into the seat as is possible, body tense and rigid, as if he can’t bear the thought of being within a foot of touching distance with him, and inwardly Jared wonders how the hell they are going to pull this off if the man can’t even stand to touch him. 

“I’ve sort of already told my family my boyfriend’s--well, ex-boyfriend now-- name, so uh, you’ll have to go by it while you’re here.” 

He rolls his eyes. “Great. What is it?”

“Misha.” 

Jensen just stares at him, face blank, as if waiting to be told it was a joke. Then he closes his eyes and leans his head back against the seat with a snort. “Perfect. That’s just perfect. Not only do I have to pretend to be _your_ boyfriend,” he emphasizes the word your, stretching it out until Jared feels about two inches tall, “but now I have spend three days going by one of the weirdest fucking names I’ve ever heard.” He snorts again. “Misha. Jesus.” 

Face burning with embarrassment, Jared quickly unlocks the cuff around Jensen’s wrist and pulls away. “I’ll get the bags,” he mutters and practically lunges out the driver’s side door. Once outside, he breathes in the cool December air and tries to get himself under control. 

Could he really go through with this? Lie to his family and spend the next three days pretending to be in love with a complete stranger? For a moment he thinks about just coming clean, before it’s too late. He could just walk in and tell his parents what happened with Misha, apologize to Jensen and pay for a bus ride back to Dallas or something, pushing this whole ridiculous situation behind him. Then he imagines the pity on his parents’ faces, just overlapping the barely concealed disappointment that’s there whenever they find out just how far different his life turned out from what they wanted for him, sees the sympathetic look on his little sister’s face, the concerned whispers she’d share with her fiancé, could hear the muttered, _That’s too bad,_ Jay from his brother, before he turns back to his beautiful wife and adorable kids and his perfect fucking life as a doctor, and never a disappointment, not him, and--

The passenger side door slams, knocking Jared out of his thoughts. Jensen is standing by the car, absently rubbing at his right wrist and scowling at the house they’re parked in front of. Jared sighs and opens the back door, starts pulling out the bags. 

There’s no going back now. 

Luggage in hand, Jared leads the way to the front door, Jensen trailing reluctantly behind him. He doesn’t pause to ring the doorbell, knowing his mama would have left the door unlocked, expecting him, and just shuffles both bags to one hand and pushes open the door with the other. “Mama? Dad?” 

“Jared? Is that you?” his mama calls from the back of the house. 

He rolls his eyes and drops the bags by the door. “Considering I’m the only one who wasn’t here already, who else would it be?” he calls back with a smile. Despite his worries and fears about coming here, it already feels good to be home. The smile fades when he looks over his shoulder and sees Jensen, still lingering outside, just beyond the doorway. “Come on in,” he murmurs. “I promise my family isn’t as crazy as I am.” 

Jensen gives him a flat, disbelieving look, but walks inside anyway. He’s closing the door behind him when Jared’s mama appears in the foyer. “Well it’s about time you got here, Jared. What took you so long?” 

Jared shrugs, opening his arms when she steps in for a hug. “You know me, always sleeping in.” She barely reaches his chest and she has to lift one hand to the back of his neck so she could pull his head down and place a kiss on his cheek. 

“Well, I remember a little boy who couldn’t wait to get out of bed. Always up at the crack of dawn, ready for the cartoons to start and demanding breakfast.” She smiles warmly at him when she pulls away, but her eyes flicker pointedly at Jensen. “And who’s this?”

Jared takes a deep breath and reaches back, placing a hand on Jensen’s shoulder to pull him forward. “Mama, this is Misha.” Jensen tenses under his touch, but pastes a smile on his face as he holds his hand out. “Pleased to meet you, ma’am,” he says, all polite smile and humble voice and Jared blinks at the change from the frowning, surly man he drove here with.

Jared’s mama bypasses the offered handshake and goes straight for a hug. From over her shoulder, Jared sees Jensen’s smile freeze and his arms slowly, awkwardly return the hug.

“Call me Sherri,” his mama says when she pulls away. “And I’m so happy you could come. The whole family has been looking forward to meeting you.” 

Jensen shoots Jared a look and hesitates long enough before his reply to make Jared start to panic before smiling down at her. “I’ve been looking forward to meeting you, too.” He sounds so sincere that Jared nearly believes him, and he lets out a relieved breath. 

“Where’s everyone else, Mama?” He asks, trying to take his mother’s attention away from his supposed boyfriend. Jensen is a _scarily_ good actor, Jared will give him that, but he feels hyper aware of how easily it all could come crumbling down around him. 

“Your dad, Jeff and Laura are in the family room. Megan and Ben went with the kids to pick up dinner.”

It was a long standing tradition that the night before Christmas Eve (or Christmas Eve Eve, as Jared and Meggie used to call it) that the family would get take out. His mama would always be busy cooking the food for the next day and as particular as she was about everything ,the family long ago found it was easier to just order food and stay out of her way. 

“Sounds like we got here just in time.” He flashes a small smile at Jensen, who had dropped his smile and is instead looking around the foyer, eyes lingering on the chandelier light fixture, and the cherry wood framed mirror surrounded by family portraits framed in the same polished wood, a small frown on his face. _Not what you thought your kidnapper’s family home would look like, huh?_ He turns back to his mom, smile strained. “So what are they getting?”

His mama rolls her eyes, an affectionate smile on her face. “Nobody could decide so they’re getting both pizza and barbecue.” 

“Alright!” Jared can’t help it, he fist pumps. The barbecue place his family likes to go to has the best shredded barbecue pork he has ever tasted. In the corner of his eye he sees Jensen roll his eyes, the expression on his face _not_ one of affection. Jared flushes and clears his throat. “Well, mama, we’ll just take our luggage up to my room and then we’ll meet you guys in the family room.” He catches Jensen’s eye and nods subtly to the stairs. 

“Oh you don’t need Misha for that. You know better than to make a guest carry his own luggage. You go on ahead and I’ll introduce him to everyone.”

“But Mama--” he tries, but she just waves him off, placing a gentle hand on Jensen’s shoulder to guide him out of the foyer. 

“Go on, don’t worry. I’ll take good care of him.” 

Over his shoulder Jensen smirks at him, leaving Jared to imagine everything Jensen could tell his family in the three minutes he’d be alone with them. He gulps and rushes up the stairs.

Jensen is led into a moderately sized family room. It’s decorated in light colors--light greens and creams, with wide glass double doors leading out to the backyard. There are two couches and an easy chair set campfire style around a low coffee table. There are people sitting on one couch and the chair--a couple who look just a few years older than him and a thin man with close cropped gray hair and laugh lines around his mouth. They all turn to look as he enters the room.

“And here’s Misha,” Sherri says with a smile, her small hand nudging gently at his shoulder for him to step ahead of her. The couple on the loveseat give a cheerful wave as Sherri introduces them as Jared’s brother Jeff, and his wife Laura, but the man in the chair stands up and holds out his hand. 

“I’m Jerry,” he says, smiling as he gives Jensen’s hand a firm shake. “Good to meet you, son.” 

“You too, sir.” Jensen’s own smile feels too awkward, too fake on his lips. Especially when met by the wide, sincere smiles everybody else in the room is beaming at him. They’re all practically _delighted_ that he’s here, and Jensen realizes that Jared wasn’t exaggerating when he said they were really looking forward to meeting his boyfriend, and that the break up would actually break all of their hearts. He doesn’t let that fact soften him though. In fact, he feels even more uneasy now that he realizes that they are apparently, nice, warm people--not the kind of people he would have thought would have raised a kidnapper--and that he’s being forced to lie to them.

This feeling is not helped by the way Jared’s dad claps a friendly hand on Jensen’s shoulder and insists that they “forget about that ’sir’ nonsense” as he ushers him onto the couch across from Jeff and Laura. 

Jensen’s dad always made him call him ’sir,’ even after he was an adult. He’d hated it.

He tries to tell himself that there’s probably something horribly wrong with all these people, underneath the surface, for their own--kidnapping--son to think it was okay to lie to them like this, and that they deserve what they get, but he doesn’t manage to make himself believe it. 

“So…” Sherri, who plopped herself down on the other side of the couch, looks around the room, obviously searching for a subject to talk about. “How’s the furniture business coming along?”

“Uh, the furniture business?”

“Yeah. Jared told us you make your own furniture and are trying to set up a business for it? He said you’re very talented.” 

Jensen looks around the room, slightly panicked. “Well, uh.” He coughs. “I don’t know about talented, but uh. Yeah. It’s going…it’s going, um, good. I guess. You know,” he forces a chuckle, “nothing big, just a few uh, chairs and stuff made for friends, but yeah, good.”   
“That’s good.” Sherri smiles at him, as if the conversation hadn’t been completely pointless (or a complete _lie_ ) and Jensen notices that she has the same dimples on her cheeks as Jared does.

“You know,” Jerry leans forward in his chair, “I’m not bad at carpentry myself. My grandfather built rocking chairs and he showed me a few things. Of course Jared and Jeff,” he waves a hand at his son, who could almost pass as Jared’s twin, and smirks, “are useless at it.”

Jeff rolls his eyes, but he’s grinning. “Gee, thanks, Dad.”

Jerry ignores Jeff, his smirk changing into a grin, shooting it at Jensen like they share a joke. “What do you say we head out to the barn sometime while you’re here. I’ve got the right tools, and some wood, and maybe we can just show these two how it’s done, huh?”

Jensen doesn’t know how to use tools. 

Well, that’s not exactly true. Tools to work on cars, sure. Give him a wrench, or a screwdriver or a set of pliers, those he could work with, but carpentry? He knew exactly jack shit about carpentry. 

For a moment, Jensen imagines himself out there with them, pushing a plank of wood through a table saw, pretending to be confident and know exactly what he’s doing, all the while trying not to screw up and making a fool of himself or worse--screwing up and losing a finger.

No. Just no. 

There was no way Jensen was going to risk any limbs or _fingers_ for one _Jared_ fucking _Padalecki._ He could keep the charity money. 

“Uh, that sounds great…Jerry.” He forces a nervous smile. “But I’m not a carpenter.” 

“Really?” Jeff asks, frowning. “I could have sworn Jared said--”

“Wicker.” Jensen interrupts him. “I make furniture out of wicker. But it’s easy to get mixed up, I mean, you know, wood.” The short laugh he lets out sounds far too strangled to him.  
“I thought wicker was a form of plant,” Jeff’s wife, Laura pipes up. 

_Jesus,_ what’s with this people? Are they some kind of furniture know-it-alls? Do they live their lives around the Antique Road Show or something?

“Well, yeah,” Jensen replies through gritted teeth. “But, you know, it looks like wood. Once it’s, uh, dry.”

At least he thinks wicker is wet when they weave it. He knows jack shit about wicker, too.  
Laura looks like she’s about to say something else, but luckily, Jared chooses that exact minute to enter the room. 

He’d never thought he’d actually be _glad_ to see him. 

“Hey, guys.” Jared calls as he walks in, smile big on his face. It dims a little when he looks at Jensen, expression taken over by something nervous and a little pained. His eyes flicker to the rest of the people in the room, as if gauging their reactions.

_No, I didn’t say anything to them,_ Jensen thinks. Though, he sort of wishes he had. How quickly would this be put to an end if Jensen just comes out and tells them what’s going on? If Sherri Padalecki was anything like _his_ mama, then very quickly, he’d wager. Then again, all Jared had to do was text Chad and that charity money would be gone. He doesn’t know Jared well enough to figure out if he’d do it afterwards, just for spite. He can’t take that chance.  
Still, that doesn’t mean Jensen has to give him any type of reassurance. So he stays quiet as he watches Jared greet his family. First he gives a long hug to his dad, then one to Jeff, just as long, then another hug to Laura, with an added kiss on the cheek. 

Apparently the Padaleckis are a hugging family.

When he’s finished, Jared plops on the couch beside Jensen, so close he’s practically in his lap, and throws an arm along the back, right above Jensen’s shoulders. Jensen barely resists the urge to flinch or roll his eyes. 

Way to over sell it. 

“Misha was just telling us about his furniture business,” Sherri supplies helpfully.   
“Oh, really.” Jared slants a nervous glance at him. 

“Yeah. You’re dad graciously invited me to the garage to give you an apparently _much needed_ carpentry lesson, but I explained to him that I make things out of _wicker._ ” He shoots Jared a significant glance at the last word, figuring that if he had to go through this whole charade, they should at least have the same story. 

“Right,” Jared says, nodding. “Wicker. It’s true, Misha wouldn’t be able to use a saw to save his life, he just uh, weaves… things.” He chuckles, a sort of nervous, abrupt noise that sounds more like a giggle than anything.

It’s possible, Jensen realizes, that Jared is a much worse liar than he is. It might prove to be entertaining, actually.

There’s a short, awkward silence before Sherri starts updating Jared on what has been going on with the family and the town. She easily brings the rest of the group into the conversation, even Jensen, who she peppers with questions like, “Has Jared told you about his Aunt Margaret? She was recently in the hospital, nothing too serious, just a little anemia,” or “Do you have any nieces or nephews? Jared mentioned you had a sibling but I don’t recall if he said she was married.” At one point, she asks why Jensen (or rather, why _Misha_ ) didn’t go home to his family for Christmas. 

“Well, uh…” Jensen stalls, trying to come up with something. There is certainly a reason why he isn’t visiting _his_ parents, but he can’t use that, too personal. 

“He can’t afford the drive,” Jared jumps in. “You know, what with starting that new business and all, money is a little tight.”

Jensen nods along. “Yeah. And the drive to Ohio is so long,” he adds, so it doesn’t look like Jared is covering for him, “it doesn’t seem worth it for just a few days.” Ohio? Where did he get Ohio?

“Ohio? I thought you’re from North Dakota.”

Inwardly, Jensen winces. Apparently he should have just kept his mouth shut. “Yeah. But my, uh, grandparents are in Ohio, and the family drives out there for Christmas.”

“Oh,” says Sherri, nodding. “I see. It‘s nice that they drive all the way there to see them every year.”

Jensen swallows. “Yeah.”

Then Sherri goes right back into news of the family. Jensen allows himself to be swept in it, barely comprehending the long list of cousins, step cousins, aunts and neighbors and their ailments and/or successes. Jared, he notices when he sneaks a glance at him, doesn’t seem to be overwhelmed at all. And Laura, who, Jensen knows from the brief overview of his family Jared gave in the car ride there, has only been married to Josh for five years is nodding along, adding a few comments here, asking a few questions there, like she has known all the people mentioned--every single one--all her life. 

The conversation is thankfully brought to a stop when the front door is opened, and a young, female voice calls out, “We’re back! And we brought food!” Shortly after, what looks to be a walking stack of cardboard and Styrofoam boxes comes into the room. Sherri and Laura immediately get up to help out and Jensen takes the moment to turn a wide eyed stare at Jared.  
“Jesus, you have a lot of family,” he hisses underneath his breath.

Jared smiles and little a shrugs. “Yeah, I know. You’ll meet some of them tomorrow for Christmas Eve.”

Jensen can’t help the look of horror on his face, imagining the room cram packed with Padaleckis, all enthusiastic and curious, giving him question after question he couldn’t possibly answer. Already feeling claustrophobic, Jensen barely gets out the strangled, “ _All_ of them?” that forces its way out of his throat.

Jared shakes his head. “Nah, most of Dad’s family is in Illinois. Tomorrow it’s just going to be my grandmother on my mom’s side and a few cousins. Maybe an uncle or two.” 

Jensen nods. Right. An uncle or two. And cousins. Grandparents. He can handle that, sure he can handle that. 

Not for the first time, Jensen curses both Chad and Jared Padalecki. 

Just then two little kids run into the room, one boy with dark hair who couldn’t have been more than four years old, and a little blonde girl who seemed to be just a little younger than him. 

“Uncle Jay!”

Jared face breaks out into a grin that Jensen hasn’t seen on him before, wide, white teeth and crinkling eyes and dimples. Jensen blinks, surprised at the change from the nervous, slightly uneasy man Jensen had spent the last six hours with. 

“Hey!” Jared says, voice sickeningly sweet and kid friendly. “There’s my two favorite people in the whole world!” He jumps up from the couch and lunges at the kids, scooping them both up, one under each arm, and starts to spin them around. 

The little girl lets out a squeal. “Uncle Jay put me down!”

“Never!” Jared shouts, still spinning them, and Jensen has to dodge one tiny clad foot as it races towards his face.

“Misha, right?” Comes a voice from his right. Jensen forces a smile and turns to face the owner. _Yeah, that’s going to get old fast._ The young woman who brought the food in is standing by Jensen’s end of the couch, and with the light brown hair, hazel eyes and dimples, Jensen can only assume it’s Jared’s sister, an assumption that is confirmed when she holds out one hand with a bright, “Hey, I’m Megan.” 

Jensen, raised to be gentleman, stands up to take it. “Misha,” he forces out, “but you already know that. Jared’s talked a lot about you.” It’s true. During the briefing Jared gave about his family, he spent the most time on his sister, mostly to warn Jensen away from her. 

“She’s the one I talk to the most,” he’d said, “and I gave her and Ben hell when they got together, so she’s going to want a little payback. Be careful around her.” 

Now, shaking her hand as this young girl--who couldn’t be more than twenty-three--smiles up at him, Jensen can’t help but think Jared had been exaggerating. That is, until: “Yeah, Jared talked a lot about you too. But you know, from the way he described you, I thought you’d look different.”

Jensen’s hand twitches a little in the handshake she hasn’t let go of yet. “Oh really?” he asks, eyes flickering past her to where Jared is now busy chatting with the man who came in with Megan--Ben, he thought--across the room, still holding on to the kids. His smile feels frozen on his face. 

“Yeah. I could have sworn he said your eyes were blue.” 

Jensen forces a chuckle. “Well, you know, it’s an easy thing to mistake. People forget little details like that all the time.” 

She hums slightly, a small frown appearing between her brows. She’s still holding on to Jensen’s hand, and staring intently at his eyes, which is starting to get a little _uncomfortable._ “Jared usually doesn’t.” She finally says, giving Jensen a slight smile and finally dropping his hand. 

Jensen watches her cross the room to Jared, who finally puts the kids down so he could wrap his long arms around her. “Meggie!” he yells out, that huge grins still on his face. Over his shoulder Megan is smiling just as wide, dimples deep and innocent looking. 

Be careful around her indeed. 

“Oh, don’t mind Megan, Misha.” Sherri smiles kindly at him from the coffee table, where she’s opening pizza and barbecue boxes. “She’s just giving you a hard time because of Jared. He’s made it a point to torture all of her boyfriends since the eighth grade. She’s just paying him back for that.” 

“That’s what he told me.” Sherri chuckles and starts to pour drinks for everyone. “Here, let me help you with that.” He grabs the package of plastic cups and rips it open. After pouring the cups of Mountain Dew and Coke, he glances at Jared, who’s still in an in depth conversation with Ben and his siblings. Charming smile firmly in place, Jensen turns to Sherri. “Could you tell me where the restroom is?” 

“Oh, of course. There’s one right down the hall,” she points a hand in the opposite direction of the front door. “It’s on the left, opposite the kitchen. And there’s another one up the stairs, second door to your right.” 

He thanks her, casts one last glance at Jared, and leaves the room.

Jensen goes back to the foyer, then up the stairs, keeping his feet quiet and muffled on the carpet of the steps. He listens hard as he goes up, waiting for Jared to notice he’s missing and come marching through the house to keep tabs on him. He doesn’t though, and Jensen lets out a sigh of relief when he gets to the top of the staircase, eyes immediately zeroing in on the phone sitting on a small secretary stand in the hallway, between two bedroom doors. In a few short strides he’s across the hall, picking up the handset. The dial tone rings like a promise in his ear and he wastes no time dialing the one person he knows will always pick up. 

“Yeah?” comes the drawl of his best friend over the line.

Jensen lets out a breath he didn’t even realize he was holding. “Chris, man, I need your help.”  
“Hey, Jensen. What’s up? And who’s number are you using?”

“I’m in trouble, Chris.” Jensen mutters quietly, glancing over his shoulder at the stairs.  
“What?” Chris’s voice went from lazy and bored to sharp and alert in a second. “What kind of trouble?”

“Big trouble. I--” There’s a short bang from downstairs, like something falling over and someone laughs. Jensen glances nervously over his shoulder again. He can hear the voices of Jared’s family, the words mumbled and indistinct, but not far. “Look, I can’t go into it right now. I just need you to do me a favor. Alright?”

“Jensen.” Chris all but growls. “Tell me what’s going on.”

“I don’t have time, Chris!” he snaps. “Now listen, it’s important. I need you to get a hold of Jeff for me. I’d do it myself but I don’t have my cell with his number. Get a hold of Jeff and tell him he needs to find a guy named Chad. A Chad, uh, Michael Murray.” Or at least that’s what he thinks Jared had called him, when he was yelling at the guy in his kitchen back in Dallas, snapping his name out with enough ease and irritation you’d think he was the guy’s mother. Jensen had thought at the time about how sloppy his kidnappers were, letting out their real names like that. Now he’s just grateful. “Chad Michael Murray,” he repeats. “He should be in Dallas somewhere. You got that?”

“Yeah, I got it,” Chris grumbles. “But who is he? And why do you need him?”

“I don’t have time to tell you.” He says again. “Just tell Jeff to find him and hold him. Don’t let him out of his sight. I’ll be there in three days, and I’ll need the cops waiting.”

Chris sucks in a breath. “Jesus, Jen. What have you got yourself into?”

Jensen lets out a slightly hysterical chuckle. “You have no idea.” Jensen takes a deep breath and doesn’t say anything for a long moment, bringing one hand up to pinch the bridge of his nose. The stress of the whole situation is catching up to him, and he needs a moment to just breathe. 

“Jensen,” Chris says softly. “Tell me where you are. Wherever it is, I’ll come get you.”   
For a second, Jensen considers letting him do just that. Chris has always been Jensen’s rock. The person who, when Jensen would screw up or break down or just need someone to talk to, would drop everything and make sure he was all right. He’d been the sole reason that Jensen had gotten through the whole ordeal with his family in the last couples years, and the urge to just say fuck it to this whole thing--to Jared, to Chad, to the Padalecki family and the farce he’s starring in, and hell, even to the money--and let Chris come here and take over like he used to is strong. 

But he promised himself he wouldn’t let Chris do that anymore. Besides, Jensen knows that Chris’s family had come down from Oklahoma to visit him for Christmas, and Jensen doesn’t want to screw that up. 

Someone should get to be with their family for this damn holiday.

“No,” Jensen finally sighs. “Just pass that message along to Jeff. Make sure he knows it’s important.”

“Jen, no. If you’re in trouble, I’ll come get you. _Just tell me where you are._ ” 

The last sentence is hissed out, Chris barely concealing the underlying fear in his voice, and for a moment Jensen reconsiders. “I…” he hesitates. 

_“Where are you going, Jay?”_

Jensen startles, throwing a panicked glance down the stairs from where Jeff’s voice is coming from, close enough for the words to be distinct. 

_“Just checking on Misha. He’s been in the bathroom for a while.”_

Jensen sucks in a breath as he hears footsteps heading for the direction of the stairs. 

“Chris,” he whispers hurriedly, “I gotta go. Tell Jeff, and don’t try to call me. I’ll call again if I can.”

“Jensen, no, wait--” Chris starts, but Jensen cuts him off. 

“I’m sorry. I have to go.” He hangs up the phone just as he hears footsteps on the stairs, and it’s with no small amount of panic that he starts looking around the hall, trying to figure out which door leads to the bathroom. An open door to the right shows the dark outline of a sink and Jensen barely gives himself time to let out a sigh of relief before he dashes across the hallway and through it, turning on the light and closing the door just as the footsteps reach the top of the stairs. 

“Jensen?” he hears through the door, quiet, like Jared thinks his family might hear him use Jensen’s real name even though they’re a floor apart. 

He turns the water on, full blast, so that the sound of it hitting the sink could be clearly heard and stares at his reflection in the mirror. Wide eyes and pale skin, dark green button up--the only shirt he’ll be wearing that’s his during this little family get together. He bites his lip, and wills his heart beat to slow, to forget about the close call.

Thirty seconds longer on the phone and Chris could’ve been on his way here. 

“Jensen?” Jared calls again, and Jensen lets the irritation and anger take over him, approves of the scowl that transforms his expression, eyes narrowing back into a glare, lips tightening in frustration, skin flushing. He shuts off the water with a jerk and grabs the door handle, roughly jerking the door open. 

“What?” he snaps. 

Jared looks at him closely, lingering on his--too dry--hands then past him and into the bathroom. “You’ve been in there a long time,” he says, expression a weird conglomeration of suspicion, nervousness and guilt. 

It doesn’t look good on him, Jensen thinks meanly. 

“Yeah, well, we didn’t exactly stop at a rest stop on the way here,” Jensen says caustically.   
Jared bites his lip and looks away, the guilt taking over his expression. “Yeah. Sorry about that,” he mutters.

Jensen shrugs and smiles, baring his teeth. “Hey, no problem, man. I mean what were you going to do, cuff me to the urinal?” He takes vicious satisfaction in the way the muscles in Jared’s jaw twitches at that. 

“Right.” Jared grinds out behind clenched teeth. “Well, we should probably get back downstairs.” 

“Oh, by all means,” Jensen says with cheerful sarcasm, the sharp, angry smile feeling good on his face. “I wouldn’t want to keep my _boyfriend’s_ family waiting would I?” He doesn’t wait for Jared to respond, just shoulders past him in the small hallway and stomps towards the stairs. 

He’s done. Done with this whole ridiculous situation. Jared’s footsteps are close behind him on the steps, and Jensen clenches his fists at his sides, filled with a sense of grim determination. 

Like hell is he staying here for even one full day, let alone three.


	3. Part 3

“Well, here it is.” Jared opens the door and gestures at the inside. Jensen takes a step into the bedroom, his face the closed off, distantly pissed expression he’d taken to wearing whenever not around Jared’s family. He looks around, taking in Jared’s childhood room in silence--the wooden desk in the corner that became too small for him by the ninth grade, the booksshelf still crammed with summer reading and college text books, the shelves on the wall with his soccer trophies and speech contest medals, the small TV with the dust covered Nintendo 64 sitting on top, and lastly, lingeringly, on the queen size bed shoved against one wall. 

Judging by Jensen’s expression as he stares at it, his mind is caught on the exact same thought Jared’s is. 

It’s going to be a tight fit. 

Jared clears his throat uncomfortably and closes the door. “Uh, here.” He walks to the bed and grabs one of the big black tote bags he’d packed. “This one has your things in it.”

“Not my things,” Jensen replies, eyes still on the bed. Finally, he forces his eyes away from the neatly arranged dark blue blankets and pillows and meets Jared’s gaze. “I’ll take the floor,” he says firmly. 

Jared sighs and drops the bag back on the mattress. “You can’t,” he wearily grunts. “My family has a habit of just barging into my room. They’ll definitely ask questions if they come in and you’re sleeping on the floor.” 

Jensen clenches his jaw and takes a deep, noisy breath through his nose. Jared can see his fists clenching and unclenching at his sides. “Fine,” he grits out. “But I get the side away from the wall.” He doesn’t wait for Jared to object (not that he was going to), roughly grabbing the bag Jared had indicated from the bed and stalking to the door, every stiff, jerky gesture suggesting suppressed violence. “I’m changing in the bathroom,” he snaps, and just barely refrains from slamming the bedroom door. 

Jared lets out another sigh and collapses on the bed, cradling his head in his hands.   
When Jensen comes back ten minutes later, dressed in the sweats and t-shirt Jared had bought him at Wal-Mart, Jared’s already in bed, pressed as far up against the wall as is possible. He sees Jensen pause in the doorway, his shoulders moving slowly up and down in another one of those deep, calming breaths, then he closes the door and drops the bag on the desk. He doesn’t say anything, doesn’t look at Jared as he stiffly lays down on the other side of the bed, as close the edge as he can get. Even with the small size of the bed and the fact neither of them are exactly small, there’s a good foot between them. Jared thinks it’s a little ridiculous, but he doesn’t shift closer. Jensen is already so tense beside him that Jared wonders if he’s gonna pull something, just lying there on his back, staring at the ceiling and looking like he’d give anything just to will this whole situation away. 

Jared huffs out a breath and rolls over on to his stomach, ignoring Jensen’s automatic flinch at the movement. He thinks vaguely about apologizing again, or assuring him that he was not going to try anything now that they are in the same bed, that he isn’t that type of person, kidnapping aside, but he knows it won’t do any good, and besides, he’s tired. It seems like he hasn’t slept, really slept, since before Misha told him he was leaving-- _sorry about Christmas Jared, maybe I’ll see you again if I’m ever back in the US_ \--and this whole day had been beyond stressful. He loves his family, he really does, but it’s tiring being around them on a normal day, always smiling and cheerful, always pushing himself to be what they expect him to be, to give what they want from him; add in a complete stranger pretending to be his boyfriend--a stranger that he kidnapped and has to watch his every move to make sure nothing looks suspicious-- and Jared is down right exhausted. 

Jensen’s breathing is perfect and even beside him, if perhaps a little louder than the man would probably want, and he hasn’t so much as twitched since that accidental flinch when Jared moved. The sounds of the house are familiar and comforting, reminding him of the years he spent falling asleep to the hum of the heat vents and the low rumble of the TV in his parents’ room every night when he was a kid, and it isn’t long until Jared is fast asleep. 

When he wakes up it’s still dark, and he’s cold. He rolls over, shifting away from the chilly wall and dragging the rest of the blankets up and around his shoulders. It takes him a few moments for his brain to fuzzily realize he shouldn’t have been able to do that, but it’s the sudden thump and muffled curse that makes him remember why. 

He jerks upright and looks around the room, noticing two things right away. 

The window is open.

Jensen’s gone. 

“Shit!”

Flinging back the covers, he jumps out of bed and rushes to the window. The roof above the kitchen is right below it, and when Jared was a teenager he used to sneak out of the house at night with its help. He doesn’t doubt that Jensen noticed how little of a drop it was to the ground, and sure enough, when Jared peers into the backyard he sees the vague, shadowing outline of a man running around the corner of the house.

Shit. Shit shit and fuck. 

He scrambles to get his shoes, shoving his feet in without bothering to tie the laces, and heads back to the window. As an afterthought, he rips open his bag and grabs the handcuffs.   
Crawling through the window and onto the roof isn’t as easy as he remembers. It’s been years since he’s had to do this, and he nearly loses his balance twice, scrapes his palms open on the rough shingles and bangs his knee on the side of the house as he eases down. He can’t help the automatic grunt he makes as he lands hard on the ground, and he just prays that his family stays asleep.

This would be much harder to explain than Jensen sleeping on the floor. 

He runs to the front of the house, scanning the streets for any sign of Jensen, and breathes a sigh of relief when he sees him. Jensen is walking briskly in the direction of town, hands in his pockets, head ducked, like he’s trying to be as inconspicuous as possible. He obviously doesn’t know that Jared noticed him gone, or else he’d be running. 

They passed a gas station on the way here, and it looks to Jared that that’s where Jensen’s heading to. Probably to use the phone. Maybe call the police.

Jared feels his throat close up at the thought.

He ducks behind the neighbor’s house, running from backyard to backyard in an attempt to catch up without Jensen noticing. The easiest way to get to the gas station is through the neighborhood park, and Jared knows the short cut. 

He catches up to Jensen just as the man is jogging past the swing sets. Jared speeds up, jumping over the corner of the sandbox and into the center of the park. Jensen has just enough time to turn at the sound--his dropped jaw and wide eyes just barely visible from the streetlights across the park--before Jared leaps at him, tackling him to the ground.

Thank god he played football as well as soccer in high school. 

They land hard on the grass. Jensen flails a little at an attempt to break his fall and Jared grunts as one elbow knocks him in his stomach, hard. He doesn’t take a moment to get his breath back though, immediately pulling up and shoving Jensen onto his stomach, pressing one knee to his back. 

“ _Jesus!_ ” Jensen gasps out. “What the fuck is wrong with you? Are you crazy? Get off me!” He struggles against Jared’s hold, trying to buck him off, but Jared grabs both his arms and leans all his weight on them, pinning them to the ground. 

Huh. Maybe he should have done wrestling in high school as well. 

“Get off!” Jensen yells again. He twists his shoulders and kicks out his legs, one arm coming free to elbow Jared in the collar bone. 

“Ow, shit!” Jared digs his knee a bit deeper, making Jensen squirm and grunt, and manages to grab the arm, pulling it up and back against Jensen lower back. “Be quiet,” he snaps. “Do you want to wake the whole town up?”

“Yes! Yes, actually I do.” Jensen growls. His face is pressed into the grass and he angles his head over his shoulder to try to glare at Jared. “I want the whole fucking town to wake up and see what a crazy, psychotic, _pathetic_ kidnapper you are.” 

“Crazy and psychotic are the same thing,” Jared tells him, digging into the pocket of his sweatpants for the handcuffs. Jensen just growls again and fights him even more. “Besides,” he says over Jensen’s increasingly vicious curses, “I grew up here. Everyone in the neighborhood knows me and trusts me. They’ll believe anything I tell them. Even Terry.”

He feels like shit just for saying the words. Low. Lower than Chad, even. But he’s desperate, which seems to be the running theme this Christmas.

“Who the fuck is Terry?” 

“The guy who owns the gas station down the street. He’s the only one who works it this late.”  
Jensen stops fighting at that, going limp against Jared’s hold and sinking into the ground. Jared eases up a little, lets him catch his breath. “Fuck.” Jensen mumbles into the grass.

Yes, Jared thinks. Exactly.

He grabs a hold of one of Jensen’s wrists and--using his knee to keep the other one pinned--snaps the cuff on it. He considers handcuffing Jensen’s other wrist as well, behind his back like in the cop shows, but then he imagines what that would look like to anyone awake and curious enough to go to their windows at this time of night. So instead he slaps the cuff on his own wrist, linking them together. If they walk close enough, it’ll just look like they’re holding hands. 

He doubts somehow, that Jensen would appreciate that thought. 

With Jensen safely cuffed to him, Jared rolls off, flopping down onto his back and trying to catch his breath. The cuffs jingle as he moves and he has to stretch his arm out over Jensen’s back so he can lay down.

“Get your arm off me,” Jensen grumbles.

“You’ll have to roll over for me to do that.” 

Jensen huffs in irritation, then groans as he rolls over. Their linked arms fall to the ground, resting between them. 

“I hate you.”

Jared sighs. “I know you do.” He pauses for a moment, staring up at the sky and the yellow rails of the swing set above them. “I don’t blame you.” 

Beside him, Jensen just grunts in answer.

The walk back is awkward and quiet, with a sullen, glowering Jensen and a dead-on-his-feet Jared. They’re both bruised and dirt streaked, the scrapes on Jared’s palms are stinging and several times during the walk one or the other would forget about the handcuffs and make some sudden movement, jerking the other’s arm and causing them to nearly trip.

Jared just wants to go back to sleep. 

When they get back to the house, Jared doesn’t even consider trying to go back through the window. He finds the spare key and lets them in through the front door. He practically drags Jensen--as quietly as possible--up the stairs and through the hallway to his room, barely pausing to kick off his shoes before he marches to the window--pulling a reluctant Jensen along--and slides it shut. Then he just flops faced down onto the bed, not even caring that the arm connected to Jensen is up in the air. “Lay down,” he mumbles into the pillow.

Jensen pulls on the cuffs, jerking Jared’s arm from side to side. “Dude,” he says, “this does not work for me,” and Jared barely suppresses a frustrated whine. 

“Just go to sleep already. I‘m not taking them off so you can run away again.”

He can feel the motion through their connected arms as Jensen huffs. “I’m not sleeping like this. I like to sleep on my back.” 

Jared buries his face further into the pillow. “Yeah and I like sleeping on my stomach. So tough. Now _get in._ ” he tugs on Jensen’s arm.

Jensen tugs back. “ _No._ ” 

“Fine,” Jared groans as he sits up. He leans over to the foot of the bed--nearly pulling Jensen down on top of him--and reaches for his bag on the floor. After a few moments of digging he finds it: the key. He sits up. “C’mere.”

Jensen comes just close enough that Jared can reach his wrist, keeping the rest of his body angled away from Jared’s, and Jared has to resist the urge to roll his eyes, fed up with Jensen’s attitude. He’s just too damn tired to feel sympathetic and guilty right now.   
The handcuff releases Jensen’s wrist with a click, but before Jensen can so much as pull his hand back Jared grabs his other one, snapping it on that wrist instead. “There,” he says, smiling. “Now you can lay on your back while I’m on my stomach. And you get the wall this time.” He stands up and stretches his hand to the ceiling, placing the key on one of the blades of the still ceiling fan there. “So you can’t get it while I’m sleeping,” he says brightly in response to Jensen’s glower, visible even in the poor lighting. “Now, _sleep._ ”

He doesn’t allow Jensen to object, practically shoving Jensen onto the bed before crawling in after him. He pulls the covers over both of them and buries his face in the pillow once more. Beside him Jensen is shifting and twitching, trying to get comfortable while putting as much distance as the cuffs will allow, but Jared just lets out a soft sigh, ignoring him.   
For the second time that night, Jared slides easily into sleep.

Jared wakes up in a state of bliss. He’s more comfortable than he can ever remember being. The bed is warm and comfortable, he’s surrounded by the scents and smells he instinctively recalls as _home_ , and his arm is wrapped around something soft that’s practically radiating heat. He scoots closer to that warmth, pressing his nose into the soft hair brushing his face and taking a deep breath, letting it out with a content “hmmm.”

He’s slipping happily back asleep when the body he’s wrapped around shifts, then stiffens in his arms. He gasps and jerks awake as an elbow is abruptly thrust into his stomach, followed swiftly by a knee as the other man scrambles to get away from him.

“Hey,” he gasps, stretching one hand out towards Jensen, “what are you…”

He knocks Jared’s hand away. “Let me go, you freak. Just--” Jared lets out a soft _oof_ as Jensen hurriedly crawls over him, trying to get off the bed and away from Jared.

There’s a faint _chink_ of the handcuffs before the tug on Jared’s arm. “Hey, wait,” he tries, but it’s too late. Jensen practically leaps off the bed, jerking Jared after him.

They fall to ground in a tangle of sheets and limbs, Jared on top of Jensen, and for the fourth time in the last eight or so hours, Jared gets another body part of Jensen’s lodged into his gut. 

He’s going to be seriously bruised after all this.

Jensen shoves at him. “Get _off_ me,” he hisses.

Jared tries to sit up but one violent jerk from Jensen knocks Jared back down again. “I’m _trying,_ ” he snaps. “This is your fault you know. If you would just stop freaking out.”  
“Oh right. Like I’m supposed to be calm when my _kidnapper_ starts molesting me in my sleep.” 

“I wasn’t _molesting_ you, god.” 

“What do you call it then? You were wrapped all around me, and you were _nuzzling_ my goddamned _neck!_ ” 

“I didn’t mean to! I was asleep for fuck’s sake.” 

Jensen rolls his eyes. “Right. I’m supposed to believe that. Just.” He gives the hand with cuffs a good tug. “Get. This. Off. Me.”

Jared huffs and tries to kick off the sheets wrapped around his legs. “I will, all right? Just stop flailing so I can stand up and get the--”

_“Oh my god.”_

Shocked at the voice, they immediately still. Jared jerks his head over his shoulder to face the door. It’s open, and standing in the doorway, eyes locked unerringly on the cuffs linking Jared and Jensen together, is his brother. 

“Uh…” He gapes at his brother, then down at Jensen, taking in what it must look like--their faces flushed and breathing harsh from exertion, Jensen’s t-shirt rucked up and Jared straddling one of Jensen’s thighs, chests pressed almost intimately close and wrists locked together by handcuffs. “Um, I can--this isn’t what it looks like,” he stutters out. 

Jeff slowly raises his eyes from the handcuffs to meet Jared’s gaze. He smirks. “I don’t know what’s kinkier, the handcuffs or the fact that you’re doing it at mom and dad’s house with only a wall separating you from their bedroom.”

Jared flushes and groans, ducking his head and pressing his face against the arm he has braced on the floor. Under him, Jensen tenses as he inadvertently brings their faces closer together. He sighs. “Just go away, Jeff.”

“Hey, hey,” his brother soothes, voice mocking. “I didn’t mean to interrupt. I was just told to come up here and get you down for breakfast. I’ll tell them you’ll be a while, eh, champ?” He snickers. 

Jared sighs again, idly watching as the skin on Jensen‘s neck twitches as his breath huffs against it. “Whatever. Just go.”

“Alright. Just try to keep it down. I have kids here, remember.”

The door shuts with a click and Jared sits up, finally managing to rid himself of the sheets tangled around his legs. He rolls off Jensen and sits down on the floor, burying his face in his free hand. “Oh god. He’s never going to let me live this down. I‘m going to hear about this at family gatherings for _years._ ”

Beside him, Jensen lets out a soft sound, and the arm connected to Jared’s starts to shake. Jared lowers his hand and stares at him, eyes widening as he realizes that Jensen is _laughing._

Jensen‘s practically giggling. “I can’t believe that just happened. Oh _god, your face._ ” He shoots a look at Jared’s still flushed face and bursts into another round of uncontrollable chuckles. 

Jared just stares at him for a moment, shocked. Then the sheer ridiculousness of the morning catches up to him and suddenly he’s laughing too, tilting his head back and chuckling so hard tears start streaming down his face. He starts to lift a hand to wipe them away, but it’s the one handcuffed to Jensen and the tug on their wrists just sends them both back into hysterics. After a few minutes he manages to calm down, taking a deep breath and slanting a look at Jensen, still smiling. 

His breath catches in his chest. 

Jared had thought Jensen attractive immediately when he’d opened his door and saw him, but like this--lying back on the floor, limbs loose and relaxed, free from all the stiff tension he’d been carrying around since Chad had cuffed him and started this whole thing, the scattered freckles along his nose bright against the flush of his face, smile wide and sincere, hair a mess, crinkles around his eyes--he’s gorgeous, and Jared is hit with a sudden longing. 

He suddenly wishes it was real, this relationship. He wishes that he really was bringing his boyfriend Jensen to meet his parents, that he got to wake up to a sight like _this_ every morning. 

That Jensen didn’t hate him. 

Jared sighs, mirth gone. “Come on,” he mutters. “We better get down there before Jeff decides to tell everyone exactly why he thinks we’re late.” He stands, reaching out the cuffed hand to grab a hold of Jensen’s wrist and haul him up. He stretches his other arm up toward the fan, searching for the key.

He’s too lost in his own thoughts to notice that Jensen doesn’t immediately jerk his hand away, like usual.

Breakfast is apparently a big deal in the Padalecki household. Actually, Jensen thinks, judging by the enthusiasm and sheer _joy_ with which the meal last night had been consumed, food in general is a big deal for the Padaleckis. Everyone is awake and at the table for breakfast, despite the fact that it’s only eight o’clock, an ungodly--in Jensen’s opinion--hour to be awake at.

But the coffee is good, hot and strong and black, and Jensen practically moans in pleasure as he gulps his first cup down. Laura raises her eyebrows at him as she watches him inhale the drink, but Sherri just takes his empty mug and refills it, handing it back to him with a smile. 

There’s enough food to feed twenty people, let alone ten. Or at least that’s what Jensen thinks until he sees it all--the waffles, and the pancakes and the eggs and bacon and toast and the assorted fruit in the bowl at the center of the table--disappear. He scans the table, taking in the Padalecki men--Jared who has to be at least 6’4, with broad shoulders and seriously built--as Jensen’s bruises from the tackle last night can attest to--muscles, and Jeff who’s barely an inch shorter, with the same build, Jerry who they obviously got their height from--and Jensen supposes that they must need all that food. But even Meg, short and petite, can put away so much food it looks impossible, and he decides they must all have a very high metabolism.

Another reason to dislike them.

Except he finds it hard to dislike Jared’s mom when she takes one look at the portion of food on Jensen’s plate--not what he’d consider meager, by any means--and tuts disapprovingly, stabbing two more flapjacks from the plate in the center and placing it on his with a warm smile, following it up with an extra slice of bacon. It reminds him too much of his mom, before Dad made it big and his parents started taking themselves too seriously, back when she used to cook, and Jensen can’t help smiling warmly at her, picking up the bacon with his fingers and taking a bite. It crumbles hot, greasy and satisfactorily in his mouth.

Beside him Jared shifts uncomfortably and Jensen looks up at him, seeing a blush on his face. He looks curiously around the table, trying to figure out what might have caused it and catches Jeff’s eye across the table. Jeff smirks at him. 

Oh. 

Jensen gives a smirk of his own and snorts a little, remembering the scene upstairs, and Jared’s face. It’s hard to take your kidnapper seriously when he looks so humiliated at his brother catching him in a somewhat risqué position. Jared hears the snort, and probably guessing what it was about, sends him a little glare. Jensen just picks up his knife and starts cutting into his pancakes, still smiling. 

“So, Misha,” Jared’s sister, Megan pipes up from her spot across from him, and his smile turns wary. “Jared told us you do yoga.”

“Uh,” Jensen flashes a glance at Jared, who looks slightly panicked. “Yeah?”

“Great!” she exclaims. Jensen thinks there’s something vaguely predator-like about her smile. “So you can join me when I do my morning yoga routine.” 

Jensen trades a look from Jared--yup, definitely panic there--to Megan’s fiancé Ben, who’s giving him a look very close to pity, like Jensen’s a man about to volunteer to die. He takes a deep breath, wonders just what he’s getting himself into. “Sure,” he tells Megan, forcing the word out with a tight smile. 

They clear an area in the living room, opening the blinds on the patio doors to let sunlight stream through. Jensen had changed back into the sweats he wore to bed, lingering in Jared’s bedroom, trying to stall, but after a few minutes Megan was calling for him from the bottom of the stairs, and he had no other choice but to go down and meet her. When she smiled at him and sweetly asked, “Do you mind if we go through my normal Vinyasa sequence?” Jensen knew he was in trouble, didn’t even need to know what a Vinyasa was. 

Now, Jensen’s sweating and shaking on the floor, in the only position he’d ever consider doing on a regular basis--the corpse pose. Flat on his back, arms at his side, he stares at the stucco ceiling and focuses on breathing, trying his best to ignore the aching in his arms, legs, back, and hell, muscles he didn’t even know existed.

Never again, he thinks. 

Just a few feet away, Jared’s sister mirrors his pose, breaths infuriatingly calm and even. “You had a lot more trouble with that than I expected,” she says, rolling her head to the side so she can look at him.

Jensen grunts. 

It was true. At the beginning it had been fine, the hip tilts weren’t bad, the Cat Pose popped his back nicely, and he’d been expecting the Downward Facing Dog, the leg stretching poses had been uncomfortable, even border line painful--he was fully convinced that the “Pigeon Pose,” a position where you stretched out one leg and folded the other one below you, touching your forehead to your ankle, should never be done by a man--but when they moved on to standing poses he’d had a lot of trouble keeping his balance. Standing on one leg while pulling the back one behind you took a surprising amount of strength and endurance, and he almost fell on his face several times. 

When he attempted the Crow Pose, he _did_ fall on his face. Face smashed into the carpet he stared wearily as Megan managed it perfectly--palms flat on the ground, legs bent and braced on the back of her elbows so that her feet were in the air, whole body weight supported by her arms. 

Crazy, that’s what it was. He’d felt like he was witnessing a scene from the contortionist act in a _Cirque du Soleil_ show.

He can see Megan still staring at him expectantly out of the corner of his eye, apparently waiting for a more satisfactory answer to the implied question than what he gave. He sighs, feeling the burn in his lungs as he releases the air. “I just started a little while ago,” is his excuse. He doesn’t know what exactly Jared told his family about Misha and his yoga habits, but fuck it; it’s not like he can fake it anyway. 

“Oh!” She bites her lip, actually looking sorry. “If I’d known that I would have chosen an easier set of stretches.” She gives him a small smile. It’s softer than what he’s seen before, apologetic, and for a minute he reconsiders the possibility that she is actually the devil incarnate, as he’d been considering when she’d been demonstrating the more…creative poses. “Why don’t you quit for now. I’ll do the next set of poses on my own.” 

_The next set?_

Jensen doesn’t even try to hide his horror at the idea of more. “Yeah,” he says, voice hoarse with relief. “I think that’s a good idea.” 

He groans as he gets up, and practically limps out of the room. Behind him he hears Megan change the CD in the stereo and as another round of soothing music starts to play, he looks back to see her back on the floor, starting an awkward looking pose where her legs go _over_ her head, soles placed flat on the ground above her forehead, twisting her body into an inverted _O._

“It’s freaky isn’t it?” 

Jensen startles at the voice, muscles complaining loudly at the jerk that goes through his body. He turns in the direction of the voice. Ben is leaning against the doorway, a couple of water bottles in his hands, eyes on Megan, watching as she twists and contorts herself with a small smile on his face. 

“Yeah.” Jensen glances back at her. “Freaky’s the word.”

Ben shakes his head. “You’re a braver man than I am, volunteering to do that with her.”   
Jensen raises one eyebrow at him. 

“She’s in the advanced class,” Ben explains. “She’s looking for a position as a teacher, just for a part time thing. Man, I went to one class with her, and I tell you, never again.” He chuckles, shaking his head again. 

Jensen shrugs and smiles at him. 

“Oh, that’s right. Jared said you’re really getting into this yoga thing. So I guess getting to the advanced class would be something you’d want, huh?” 

“Well, I don’t know about that,” Jensen says awkwardly. “I think just knowing enough to be, uh, healthy and all sounds good to me.” Really, he had no desire to take an advanced yoga class. At all. 

Ben nods genially, offering Jensen one of the water bottles in his hand. Jensen takes it with a smile, gratefully chugging down the cool liquid.

“So, uh, you and Jared, huh?” 

There’s something off about his tone, and Jensen looks sharply at him. “Yeah…” he says warily, not sure where Ben is going with this.

So far, everyone in Jared’s family has seemed very tolerant and accepting of his (fake) relationship with Jensen, but what people say and how they act isn’t always the truth, and it’d make sense that Megan’s fiancé, the new addition to the family would be the one who had issues with it. 

Not that he particularly cares if Jared’s family gives him a hard time. He doesn’t care much for Jared himself, period, kidnapper that he is, but Jensen has had enough of stupid people and their bigotry to last him a lifetime, and he’s not about to put up with it, not even for his (fake) boyfriend. 

“Megan tells me it’s been a while since Jared’s ever introduced anyone to the family, so you guys must be pretty serious.” His eyes flicker nervously past Jensen to Megan and then back again, and Jensen relaxes. 

Ah. So Ben’s just digging for information. Probably on Megan’s orders. That, Jensen can handle.   
“Well, you know, it’s only been a couple months.” Jensen tell him, smiling his best charming smile, the one he’d used when negotiating for his clients. “But yeah, I’d like to think we’re heading that way, sure.” 

Ben grins and leans a little more against the doorway, responding to Jensen’s easy tone and smile, hoping to get more information now that Jensen has shown he’s amenable to talking. “So how’d you guys meet, anyway?”

At this, Jensen inwardly grimaces. Jared had gone over his and Misha’s backstory on the way to the house, but he still doesn’t feel comfortable parroting it out, just in case what he says contradicts what Jared had told them all. “At a health food store near where I live.” 

“A health food store? Jared?” Ben asks, eyebrows raised, and Jensen has to wonder how much about Misha Jared _did_ tell his family. It would explain why Megan was going through so much trouble to get information about their relationship. Then again, the surprise could have been feigned.

“Yeah. It’s a small place, mostly regulars, and I hadn’t seen him around before--” because Jensen doesn’t frequent health food stores. He’d take a good steak and loaded baked potatoes over tofu and lentils any day, thank you. “--so I struck up a conversation. Turns out he’d been sent there by a girl he was dating to pick up something for dinner.”

Those eyebrows went up again. “He was dating someone else when you met him?”

“Apparently it wasn’t anything serious. Anyway, I liked him, so I gave him my number, told him to call me.” All in all it was a pretty boring “how they got together” story, or at least Jensen thought so. He supposed it might have been a bit more exciting for Jared. And Misha, probably. Maybe. 

Well. The man did flee the country. 

“You just gave him your number, just like that? But he was with a girl did you even know if he was gay?”

Jensen smirks at him, tossing the water bottle from hand to hand. “Usually you can tell. And even when you can’t…” Jensen carelessly shrugs one shoulder. “Sometimes you just have to put yourself out there anyway.” That part is true, at least, or had been, anyway. Jensen certainly hasn’t been doing too much of that here recently. Too busy. 

Ben stares at Jensen in real surprise this time, like Jensen was something he’d never seen before. “So you just go and “put yourself out there” and hit on any man you want even if you don’t know whether or not he’s gay. Here. In Texas.”

“Yeah.” And boy did it used to get him in a lot of trouble. His father had _loved_ that. “The way I see it is, if everyone keeps being careful and edging around the subject of homosexuality, then it’s going to _stay_ something to edge around. Pushing it up in people’s faces, even in just every day situations, forces them to acknowledge it. And it’s one step closer to acceptance. Besides, I’m not about to hide who I am to anyone. For anything.”

_Hypocrite_ , his mind whispers to him, reminding him sharply of just how much he is hiding from these people. They don’t even know his real _name_ for Christ’s sake. 

Ben shakes his head again, reaching out to pat Jensen on the shoulder. “Like I said, braver man than I am.”

Feeling suddenly done with the conversation, and all the lies that come with it, Jensen forces a smile on his face and tilts his head in the direction of the stairs. “Well, I’m just sitting here sweating, and it’s getting pretty gross. I’mma head up to the shower. Thanks for the water, man.”

“No problem. Nice talking to ya, Misha.” 

_Misha._

The name leaves a bitter taste in the back of his throat, and it shouldn’t, not really. The fact that these people don’t know his real name shouldn’t matter to him. He shouldn’t _like_ his kidnapper’s family. 

But he does, Jensen realizes as he heads up the stairs. Not even a full day here and Jensen likes them all, feels bad for lying to them. He pauses outside the upstairs bathroom as he takes that in.

Well, fuck. 

Jared pops his head out of his bedroom. “Hey Jen--” he coughs “Uh, Misha. I have to go into town for a bit today. You wanna come with?”

Jared says _you want to_ but Jensen knows he really means _you have to_ , because there was no way he’d leave Jensen alone with his family, able to say anything or leave any time, and that bitter taste is back in his mouth, this time accompanied by the familiar flood of anger and resentment. 

 

Jensen welcomes the emotions with relief. 

“Do I really have a choice?” he hisses to Jared, stalking past him and into the room. He roughly grabs the bag with his clothes off the desk chair and spins around, glowering. “I’m taking a shower before we leave. _You_ \--” he thrusts one finger in Jared’s direction, “stay out of the bathroom while I’m in there.” 

He marches angrily out into the hall, ignoring Jared’s muttered, “Like I would go in there.” The bathroom door shuts behind with a firm, and satisfying click.

They take Jared’s car out of the small neighborhood and into the city proper. On the way out of the house they’re stopped by Sherri who hugs them both and asks if Jared is going to visit some people named Harley and Sadie. Jared just grins as he opens the door. “Of course, Mama. Gotta introduce Misha to them, don’t I?”

Jensen isn’t too thrilled with this. He’s already met enough of Jared’s friends with Chad, and if he’s the shining example of who Jared likes to be around, then he doesn’t want to meet anybody else. Besides, what kind of a name was Harley for a person, anyway? 

At least this time, he thinks, as Jared pulls away from the sidewalk and into the street, Jensen isn’t handcuffed to the door. Jared had paused halfway to the car, a thoughtful expression on his face as he stared at the passenger side door, but Jensen hadn’t let him consider going upstairs for the cuffs. He’d hopped right in the car and slammed the door shut. Shrugging, Jared had followed. 

They’re driving through the city now. Jensen had been to San Antonio before, but Jared doesn’t seem to have any intention of heading to the downtown area, driving away from the River Walk and the other tourist spots and closer to the edge of the city. 

“So where are we going, anyway?” Jensen asks when he finally gets too curious to remain silent.   
Jared looks surprised--probably because the last time they spent in the car Jensen had made it a point to speak to Jared as little as possible--but answers readily enough. “I’m picking out my mama’s Christmas gift.”

Figures. Christmas Eve and the guy hasn’t even bought his mother a Christmas gift yet. He snorts and goes back to staring out the windshield, taking in the street names as they pass them. Out the corner of his eye he sees Jared frown at his reaction, but he doesn’t say anything. 

They turn into a street filled with little shops--a second hand bookstore, an arts and crafts shop, what looks like a karaoke bar and a small diner. It’s all a little too Ma and Pa to be any interest for tourists, but Jensen can tell that they’re doing all right. They don’t seem rundown or on the verge of closing, and there isn’t an empty space or a _For Rent_ sign to be seen. They park right out on the street and Jared leads Jensen to a shop on the corner, passing, Jensen notes with irony, a handmade wicker furniture store. 

The shop they go to is an antique store, filled with old dolls and paintings, tarnished metal lamps and chandeliers with dangling, foggy crystals. There’s a glass case filled with ceramic salt and pepper shakers, delicate figurines and costume jewelry. Rusty tin cans with antique logos on them sit on top, filled with old post cards, feathers and an assortment of colorful buttons. Jensen pauses at the case, reaches up to smooth the crinkled corner of a post card that caught his eye. There’s a photo of an American muscle car on the front. Jensen picks it up and looks closer: a ‘67 Chevy Impala, its coat black and smooth, the chrome shining even through the faded ink of the card. 

Jared doesn’t stop to look at anything on the shelves, instead heading straight for the back of the store, and Jensen can’t help but follow, curious despite himself. “Meryl? Are you there?” Jared calls out.

A door to what looks to be an office opens, and a woman leans out. She’s heavy set, probably in her mid-fifties, with brilliant, curly red hair piled messily into a bun on top of her head. When she sees Jared, her face splits into a wide smile, eyes crinkling at the corner. “Jared! I’ve been waiting for you! How have you been?”

Jared’s own smile is huge, dimples deep, as he walks forward and envelopes the woman in a hug. “I’m good. How are you? And Jonathan?”

The woman rolls her eyes as she steps away. “That man is going to drive me crazy,” she complains, but there’s a smile on her face. “He’s decided that we need to build a two car garage beside our house, like there’s not enough room in the one we have already. I swear, he just wants something to keep him busy. Never could sit still, so retirement is making him nuts.” 

“You should make him come here sometime. I’m sure you could put him to work somewhere,” Jared teases. 

Meryl looks horrified. “Absolutely not! You’ve heard the phrase ‘bull in a china shop?’ Well that phrase was made for my husband. He’d destroy anything he came in contact with. So clumsy.” She shudders dramatically and they both laugh. Jensen stands there awkwardly for a moment until Meryl finally catches sight of him behind Jared. “Well, Jared, aren’t you going to introduce your friend?”

Jared turns his smile on Jensen. For once, it’s not the bright, forced smile he’d been wearing every time someone in his family would ask about him, but softer, more sincere. “This is Jensen.” He places a hand on Jensen’s shoulder to guide him forward and Jensen jumps a little, surprised at both the touch and the name. 

Why wasn’t he Misha to Meryl? 

“He’s going to help me figure out what to get my mom,” Jared tells the woman brightly. He doesn’t say the word “boyfriend,” but Meryl’s eyes linger on Jared’s hand on his shoulder, thumb just grazing his collar bone, and her smile is kind when she holds out her hand.   
“I’m Meryl McCune. Pleased to meet you.”

“You too ma’am.” Jensen shakes her hand with a smile. 

Just like Sherri did when Jensen met her, Meryl shakes her head. “Call me Meryl.”  
He nods his head. “Alright. Meryl.”

“Well.” Meryl claps her hands together. “What are we waiting for? Come on up.” She walks back through the door she came out of, leaving the door open. 

“Up?” Jensen turns to Jared, brows furrowed in confusion. 

“Meryl uses the space above here. Becky--” he points to woman on the other side of the small store, sitting in an ancient rocking chair placed behind a till. “--owns the antique shop. She rents it out to Meryl.” 

So they weren’t here for antiques? Just what were they here for then? 

Jensen follows Jared through the door which didn’t lead, as he thought, to an office but a small hallway. There were two more doors after that, both open, one to a small bathroom, and the other to a set of steep, brightly lit wooden stairs. Jared gestures for Jensen to go on ahead of him and he does, tensing when Jared closes the door to the stairs behind him. 

“Meryl doesn’t like to be disturbed when she’s with a client,” Jared explains when Jensen shoots him a look over his shoulder, and Jensen wonders again just what they were doing here.   
He opens the door at the top of the stairs and steps through it, eyes widening as he takes in the sight before him. The top floor is made up of one long room, with big double-pained windows on both sides. There are no blinds or curtains, filling the room with natural light, glinting and bouncing off the items on the shelves and tables all around. 

The room is filled with glass. 

The tables taking up the center of the room are full of it, clear glass figurines of all shapes and sizes, smooth, colorful plates and bowls. There’s a pitcher and bowl in the corner that looked like it was made out of water itself, the glass a beautiful transparent blue with swirls of aqua and light green running through it. Hanging above their heads are tiny glass baubles and huge, abstract chandeliers, some transparent, like the pitcher, others dark and opaque, the colors bright and vibrant in the sunlight, all of it, from the thick glass goblets to the delicate spun glass sail boat, are obviously hand made. 

“Pretty impressive, huh?” Jared murmurs behind him. “I was looking for a gift for my--” he stops suddenly, a tight expression flickering across his face quickly before he gives his head a little shake and continues. “for… someone,” he says, though Jensen has a feeling that wasn’t what he originally meant. Whoever it was, it must be painful for Jared to think about, Jensen thinks, based on that brief expression. 

But Jared seems to have immediately forgotten all about it, face smooth and relaxed as he looks around the room and continues with the story. “I was at a complete loss as to what to get, and a friend introduced to me to Meryl. She took me up here and I was completely blown away. I didn’t even know it was possible to do the sorts of things she does with glass.”

Jensen nods, staring at everything in the room. Impressive is an understatement. 

They walk through the room, Jensen’s attention flittering from item to item, until they reach the back where Meryl has set up a sort of workshop. She’s standing behind a long scuffed table with a small furnace, a long rubber tube with a mouthpiece connected to it. Behind that are rows and rows of glass pipes in all different sizes and color, as well as an array of metal tools Jensen couldn’t begin to decipher what they’re used for. But what Meryl is leaning over now is a large sketchbook, a stubby graphite pencil in hand. 

“Alright, Jared,” she says when they reach the table. “What do you have in mind this time?”  
For all that Jared said downstairs about Jensen helping him figure out what to get, Jensen isn’t needed. Mostly because Jared doesn’t even look to see if there’s anything he likes on the shelves. Instead he goes into explaining what he wants, with big hand gestures and an excited gleam in his eyes. After a few minutes of listening intently to him Meryl starts to sketch. Jared joins her around the table, peering over her shoulder, pointing at one thing here, suggesting something else there. 

Jensen takes the time to look around the room. He’s seen glass blowing before, of course, but never like this. Before it was always the same stuff: cheap looking roses made out of dyed red glass, or blue painted humming birds perched on a lily, a dangling heart with the word _mom_ written through it. His father and he had bought his mom a glass figurine once. One of those water filled swans that were supposed to serve as a barometer. You clip off the tip of the beak and the colored water would rise up the neck whenever there was a storm. The shop they’d got it at had rows and rows of the same design, over and over again, so perfect and alike it was hard to believe that they had been individually hand made. 

It wasn’t like this. Meryl is an artist. No two designs are the same and they’re all made with an extreme amount of detail. For the life of him, Jensen can’t figure out what she is doing in a small, cramped room above a barely noticeable antique store. 

Jensen looks over at Meryl and Jared. They’re still bent over the sketch pad. Jared’s completely absorbed, nodding along with whatever Meryl is murmuring, gesturing and pointing again at the page. Jensen frowns thoughtfully. This wasn’t an unplanned, last minute gift for his mother. No, Jared had probably come to San Antonio knowing that he was going to stop here for her gift. And from the way Meryl said “this time,” and the mention at how she’d been waiting for him, Jensen would guess that Jared buys Sherri’s gift here every year, and probably put just as much effort into them as he’s putting in now. 

Unwillingly, Jensen’s opinion of Jared shifts. 

Still frowning, Jensen moves away from the glass art and to the windows, staring down at the street below. He’s not sure how long he stands there, but he’s so lost in his own thoughts that he doesn’t notice Jared come up, can’t help the small flinch he gives when he’s suddenly there, beside him.

“Guess you got bored, huh?” Jared smiles apologetically. “Got a little carried away. Sorry about that. Meryl’s just putting on the finishing touches and we’ll leave.” 

He leans against the wall on the other side of the window, gazing through the glass. The sunlight turns Jared’s skin gold, lighting up the side of his face with the small mole by his nose, bringing out the green in his eyes. Jared’s dimples are deep shadows in his face as he stares out the window at the street, his lips barely upturned in a small smile. Jensen stares at him, trying to pull up the irritation and hatred he feels for him to the forefront of his mind.

It’s harder than it should be.


	4. Part 4

After he and Meryl haggle over prices for a bit--she kept trying to go lower, Jared insisted that it doesn’t count as a gift if he gets it practically for free--she walks them downstairs and through the antique shop. 

“So I’ll bring the check with me when I pick it up. Same time as usual?”

Meryl looks down at the sketchbook she’s still holding in her hands. “Yeah. This shouldn’t take me any longer than that.” She grins up at him. “Your requests are always unique, but not too difficult.” 

Jared smiles back at her, gives her hug goodbye before they leave. “Say hello to Jonathan for me. Tell him I think the extra garage is a _great_ idea.”

She slaps his arm with the sketchbook. “Oh, just get out of here.” She turns to Jensen. “It was nice meeting you. You should come back some time, let me design something for you.” 

Jensen takes her hand. “I just might. You are a fantastic artist, Meryl.” He gives her his most charming grin and Meryl’s face goes red. She honest-to-god blushes and for a moment Jared thinks Jensen must have some kind of superpower. He’s never seen Meryl flustered in all the seven years he’s known her. Then Jared recalls a brief flash of Jensen laughing, head thrown back and eyes closed, lines crinkling around his eyes, and well, he gets it.

He’s starting to understand that sometimes it’s impossible _not_ to be flustered around Jensen. 

Goodbyes said, Meryl heads back upstairs to her workshop, and the boys wave goodbye to Becky, still sitting in the rocking chair. Outside the shop, they’re quiet. Jared awkwardly shoves his hands into his pockets as he walks to the car, suddenly feeling self conscious. While in the workshop he’d been too occupied with planning his mom’s present to think about Jensen and how he’d forced him into being with him, so excited about his ideas and seeing Meryl again that he forgot, when he’d introduced him, that Jensen wasn’t a friend, wasn’t even someone who liked Jared. 

Now, with Jensen walking silently beside him, pensive frown on his face, Jared feels highly aware of those facts. 

“Why’d you call me Jensen?”

Jared stops. “What?”

“Inside. When you were introducing me to Meryl, you gave her my name instead of Misha’s. Why?”  
Was _that_ what Jensen was frowning about? Jared had though the man would be glad to go by his own name for once. 

“Meryl’s my secret,” Jared explains. 

Jensen looks at him, confused. “Huh?” 

He smirks. “No one in my family knows who Meryl is. The first time I ever gave my mama a present from there, she kept trying to get the name of who made it for me. I knew, from the way she loved it, that she wanted to buy more from her. But if she could buy the figurines herself, what would be the point of me giving them to her? So I never told her, or anyone else in my family.” Jared shoots Jensen a sidelong glance. “You‘ve probably noticed that nobody can keep their mouth shut in my family. It didn’t matter if she knew who you really were because she doesn’t talk to my family, though she knows about them, and they don’t talk to her, even though they know she exists.”

Jared doesn’t mention that it was nice, not having to lie to someone. That he could smile and introduce _Jensen_ , not the man Jensen was pretending to be. Nor does he talk about how all the lying was getting to him, that he couldn’t stand the though of trying to fool one more person he cared about. 

Instead he shrugs and keeps talking about Meryl. “It’s more of a joke between us than anything. If she really wanted to find out who made them, it wouldn’t be too hard. Not many people around who have talent like Meryl’s.”

Jensen nods and starts walking again. “Yeah. I’m surprised she isn’t up in New York somewhere, with her own art gallery doing commissions for rich people.”

“She was.” 

Jensen stares at him in surprise, and Jared lifts one shoulder, grinning. “Meryl’s the best kept secret around here. She was a big hotshot artist in New York City years ago. Her work was featured in several magazines and art journals, shown off in some of the most famous houses along the east coast. Jonathan was her manager. That’s how they met. Eventually she got tired of the big city and they moved back down here to San Antone, where she was born.” 

They’ve reached the car and Jared unlocks the front door as he continues speaking. “She made enough money off her art that they can both live in retirement. Now, she only does a few commissions here and there, mostly as favors for friends. What you saw up there? Was actually her personal collection. None of it’s for sale.” They get in the car and Jared starts it. Jensen’s looking through the car window at the second floor of the antique shop. 

“She must really love her work,” Jensen muses thoughtfully. 

Jared chuckles. “Yeah. She’s no cynical, disillusioned artist. She just loves playing with glass. She’d give me my stuff for free if she could, but I insist on paying, even if it is less than a tenth of what it’s worth. I mean, it’s for my mama, you know?” 

He looks over at Jensen as he pulls out of the parking lot to see the other man eyeing him with an expression Jared can’t make out, and he shifts uncomfortably in the seat, realizing he’s been rambling on for a while now. He coughs. “Anyway. Now that we’re done here I thought we’d go see Harley and Sadie.”

“Great. After Chad I’m just _dying_ to meet more of your friends.” 

Jared flicks him a surprised glance, sees him glowering out the window again and smirks. “Well, I’m sure you’ll love them. They’re the best friends a man could ask for.”

“Right,” Jensen says sarcastically. 

Jared takes them out of the city and back to the neighborhood he grew up in. The house he pulls up to is only a few streets down from his parents’, just a few minutes walk away. He probably would have come here to visit last night if it hadn’t been for Jensen. 

He parks in the street, barely putting on the break before he’s ripping the keys out of ignition and throwing open the door. Excited, he rushes up to the front door. Behind him Jensen follows and more sedate (sullen) pace. Jared presses the doorbell once, and then again a second time, bouncing up and down on his heels as he waits.

“Dude,” came an annoyed voice behind him. “What’s got you jumping up and down like you’re the Energizer bunny?” He turns around to see Jensen standing on the step below him, scowling. 

“Just haven’t seen them in a long time is all.” Jared claps his hands together, bounces a few more times for good measure. The door opens behind him and whips around, wide smile on his face. “Cindy!” He jumps forward, hugging the blonde woman. “Are they here?”

Cindy laughs, patting his back. “Yeah, of course they are. We’ve been waiting for you. They’re out back.” 

Jared gives her another squeeze and, ignoring Jensen’s slightly bewildered expression, takes off into the house, heading straight for the door to the backyard. The sliding doors open easily and he’s barely set foot outside before he’s bowled over by two, large, flailing, barking mutts. 

“Puppies!” Jared bellows, and happily falls to the ground with them, accepting their wet doggy kisses and running his palms over their glossy coats. Sadie crawls right into his lap, licking at his face and Harley runs around and around him in circles sniffing, and pawing and accidentally whacking Jared with his tail. Jared laughs in delight. “I missed you guys,” he coos. “Yes I did.” He senses Jensen behind him but he doesn’t care if he’s making a fool of himself, it’s been months since he’s seen his dogs and he is going to enjoy the reunion   
“C’mere, Harley.” He snags the dog by the collar and pulls him to him, ruffling the fur on his neck with both hands. Harley leans in to the touch, mouth open and tongue lolling, panting hot, doggy breaths across Jared’s face. “I think you’ve gotten bigger, boy. You been terrorizing the neighborhood like usual?” Harley woofs and Jared laughs.

“These are your friends, huh?” Jensen asks and Jared looks over his shoulder at him, grinning.

“What can I say?” He leans forward to place a kiss on Sadie’s head. “A man’s best friend is his dog.” 

“Or dogs, plural, in this case.” 

“Yep!” Jared nods happily, barely sparing Jensen a glance. When he finally does look away from the two animals demanding his attention to look up, Jensen is staring at him with that peculiar look again, the one Jared doesn’t know what to make of. “What?”

Jensen shakes his head. “Nothing,” he mumbles, looking away. 

Jared spends a few more moments wrestling with the dogs before finally getting off the ground, brushing off the grass and dog hair covering his clothes. “C’mon inside. I’ll introduce you.” Jensen follows him inside without a word. 

Inside, Cindy and her husband, Mark, are in the kitchen. She looks up from the sugar cookies she’s decorating (in red and green, of course) and smiles at him. “Finally visiting us now, huh?” She teases. 

Mark grumbles from his spot against the counter where he’s eating the leftover batter. “Second place to a couple of mutts, I see how it is.” 

Jared chuckles. “Mark, you love those dogs just as much as I do, don’t even try to deny it.” 

Mark pretends to scowl. “Wouldn’t have taken them in if you hadn’t gone to Cindy first.” 

“Whatever.” Jared rolls his eyes. When he catches Jensen’s curious expression he explains. “Harley and Sadie were my dogs in college. When I moved to Dallas I couldn’t take them with me, and Dad’s allergic. I didn’t want to give them up to someone I didn’t know and luckily these guys,” he gestures at them with his thumb, “took an interest in them. I would have scrapped the whole Dallas idea if they hadn’t promised to let me come back and visit them whenever I wanted.” 

“Of course, we mistakenly assumed that you’d want to visit us just as well as the dogs. But we’ve all seen how that goes,” Mark bitches at him. 

“Aww…” Jared coos, his smile feeling wider than Texas. “Does Marky feel unloved? Come here, Marky, I’ll show you how much I love you.” The shorter man tries to dodge him as Jared goes for a hug, but he manages to get Mark pinned against the refrigerator, where he then proceeds to wrap both arms around the man in a bear hug, lifting him off the floor.

Mark laughs. “Let me down, you freak!” 

Jared doesn’t put him down, lets the man struggle. Behind him he can hear Cindy move away from the island in the center of the kitchen to Jensen.

“Jared didn’t exactly introduce us when he barreled through the house. I’m Cindy, Mark’s wife. Mark and Jared went to high school together.” 

“And he was just as obnoxious then too!” Mark says loudly, still dangling in Jared’s hold.

“Aw, Marky. I wuv you too.” Jared squeezes him harder, rocking him from side to side. 

“Uh,” he hears Jensen stutter a bit, probably a little bewildered by the whole scene. “I’m uh, m-Misha.” He hesitates. “Jared’s boyfriend.” 

Mark finally manages to get out from Jared’s hold. “Oh really?” he asks, turning to Jensen with an evil smile on his face. 

“Nuh uh.” Jared moves in front of Jensen protectively. “You are not messing with this one.” 

God, that was the last thing he needed: Mark’s over protectiveness and psychotic need to torture everyone Jared took an interest in. If anyone could blow up this whole sham Jared’s got going, it would be Mark. 

“Oh, come on, Jay,” Mark wheedles. 

Jared shakes his head. “No,” he says firmly. “No interrogations, no stories, no history check.”  
Out of the corner of his eye he sees Jensen turn to Cindy. “History check?” he mouths. She just shrugs, a small, secret smile on her lips. But Jared doesn’t trust her at all. 

She’s just as bad as Mark. 

“Well,” he says brightly, looking around the kitchen at all the Christmas Eve preparations. “It looks like you’re busy getting ready for the family tonight, so why don’t Misha and I just take Harley and Sadie to the park for a bit, get them out of your hair?” 

“See. You really do love those dogs better.”

Jared shrugs, holding his arms palms out in a _what can you do?_ gesture. “Well, they’re more cuddly than you. If you wanna change that however…” he takes a few steps towards Mark, arms wide. 

Mark scuttles around the island, hiding behind his wife. “I’ll pass, thanks.” 

Jared laughs, guiding Jensen out of the kitchen. “Leashes still in their normal spot?” he calls as he heads to the back to the dogs.

“By the front door, as usual,” Cindy calls back, but she could barely be heard above Mark’s loud, “Don’t think this is the end of it, Jared! I’ll get Misha away from you at some point!”  
Jared isn’t worried. Mark can do all the digging he wants after this Christmas, by then Jensen will be long gone out of his life. 

He tries to ignore the little stab of disappointment he feels at the thought.

It’s a sunny day outside, around sixty degrees, barely cold enough to wear a jacket. Perfect time for a trip to the park, Jared thinks, and he grabs the Frisbee and ball as well as the leashes. 

“History check?” Jensen asks once they’re outside with the dogs, heading in the direction of the park Jared had tackled Jensen in the night before. 

Jared gives him an uncomfortable shrug. “Mark’s brother is a detective for the San Antonio police department. He can check up on almost anyone he wants. After a few uh, poor dating choices on my part, he’s taken to looking into anyone I introduce him to.” He flushes a little, reaching up to rub at the back of his neck. “He’s a little over protective, but well, we grew up together, and we’ve always been close. I’d do the same to him if he wasn’t with Cindy.”  
Jensen makes a little noncommittal noise and nods, tugging on Sadie’s leash a little as she tries to wander off. 

Belatedly, Jared realizes that telling the guy you are currently kidnapping and holding his money ransom that one of your best friends has a connection to the cops might not be a good idea. He slides a glance towards the other man, but he can’t tell if the slight crease between his eyebrows or the way his eyes are roaming the neighborhood means that he’s furiously planning ways to convince Mark to help him, so he lets the thought go, just reminding himself that again, leaving Mark alone with Jensen is a bad idea all around.

When they reach the edge of the park Jensen pauses. “Huh. It looks different during the day. And you know,” he drawls out sarcastically, “when I’m not having my face shoved into the ground.” 

Jared ducks his head and blushes, the now familiar rush of guilt appearing again. “Yeah. Did, I uh, apologize for that yet?” 

“No,” Jensen says shortly. He makes a small clicking noise to Sadie and tugs on the leash, walking a few paces ahead of Jared. 

He sighs and follows Jensen into the park. 

More and more Jared wishes that he’d never listened to Chad. The whole thing was just getting too complicated. 

Jared plays Frisbee with the dogs for a while, Jensen sitting on a bench--within Jared’s sight--and watching. At some point, Jared manages to convince Jensen to join in (“They’re just dogs, man. Playing with them does not mean you are in any way consenting to be here. I get it.”) and soon they abandon the Frisbee for the ball instead, passing it back and forth to each other and laughing as the dogs go nuts, running from Jensen to Jared, then Jared to Jensen, yipping and panting and trying their hardest to get a ball that doesn’t come near them. 

It feels good, doing this. Jensen laughs every time Harley trips over his own feet, gives Sadie and conciliatory pat whenever she pouts at missing the ball again. There’s no tension, no stress of pretending to be something he’s not, of making sure nothing goes wrong, of meeting the expectations of everyone around him. There’s just the park, two dogs, a grungy, slobber covered tennis ball, and Jensen. 

Jensen, who seems to forget Jared is someone he should hate and meets his eyes over the scrabbling dogs, shaking his head, chuckling and saying “ _Dude,_ ” as Harley attempts to jump in the air to get the ball, but only manages to land on top of Sadie. Jared is breathless from laughter, hands braced on his knees, soggy ball clenched in his hand. 

This, he thinks, almost without even realizing it. _This is how it should be._

It all ends, however, when Jared’s phone rings. He tosses the ball over to Jensen, watches the dogs scramble after it and wipes his hands on his jeans, pulling out his phone. “Hello?” he answers, still laughing. 

“Jay-man! How’s it going with the charity freak?”

His laughter stops. “Chad.” He glances at Jensen, who’d gone still at the word and starts walking away, putting some space between them. “What’s up man?”

“That’s what I should be asking you. You’re the one on a little kidnapping adventure.” 

“Yeah well, that wasn’t my idea,” Jared snaps, irritated. That good feeling he’d had just a few minutes ago? Yeah. Gone. 

“You went along with it, didn’t you? I don’t recall handcuffing _you_ to the steering wheel and forcing you to drive the man to San Antonio. So I’m asking, how’s it going?”

“It’s going… as well as can be expected I suppose,” Jared mutters into the phone, glancing back at Jensen, who was now bent over, petting the dogs. “My family seems to like him, Mark wants to investigate his background--which is normal--and Jensen snuck out of the house in the middle of the night. I had to tackle him in the park and handcuff him to me to get him back to the house.” 

“Well good for him,” Chad says brightly. 

Jared takes the phone away from his ear, looking at it in confusion. “What?” he asks when it he puts it back. 

“Well, the man would be a pussy if he didn’t at least try to escape once.” 

“Right.“ Jared sighs, bringing a hand up to his forehead in an attempt to stave off the headache he could feel coming on. 

One of the cons of being friends with Chad.

“Just make sure to let him know that I’ve still got the charity money, and he needs to behave if he wants to see it again.” 

“Sure.”

“I’m serious, Jared.” And to his surprise, Chad _sounds_ serious. “I know you. You’re too nice, and too trusting for you own good. You gotta keep reminding him of what you’ll do if he doesn’t cooperate. You can’t trust him to just go along with your plan out of the goodness of his heart. He’s not your buddy, Jay. And he sure as hell isn’t your boyfriend.”

Jared tries to swallow, suddenly finding it difficult to do. “Right,” he says stupidly. “Of course.”

There’s a muffled knock on the other line. “One minute!” Chad yells over the line, and Jared flinches at the volume. “Listen, Jay I gotta go. That’s room service with my lunch.” 

Jared’s brows furrow in confusion. “Room service? Chad, it’s Christmas Eve, why aren’t you at your parents’ house?”

Silence.

“Chad…” Jared starts carefully. “Did you and your dad fight again?” 

Chad and his dad don’t exactly see eye to eye. It’s nothing specific that drives them apart, but they’ve been fighting on and off for years. Chad’s mother, when Jared talked to her about it before, said it was because they were so much alike, Chad just said it was because his father was an asshole with a stick up his ass. 

Chad huffs out a breath. “It’s no big deal, Jay. Besides, that whole Christmas dinner thing? Boring as all fuck. This is _way_ better.” 

“Yeah?” Jared asks skeptically. “And what’s that?”

“Gambling, man!” Chad crows. “I’ve met a few friends here in Austin and they’re going to show me the best local places here. It’s gonna be awesome.”

“Sure it is,” Jared sighs. “Listen, Chad. Just… be careful, all right? Don’t do anything stupid.” Because Jared knew how Chad got after one of his fights with his dad, and he knew the type of people he liked to gamble with. 

“Yeah, yeah. Stop your worrying. Now go convince your family that Jensen can’t get enough of your cock.” 

“Chad, I’m serious here.” Jared tries, but Chad has already took the phone away from his ear. Jared can hear another knock and Chad distantly yelling _Yeah, yeah. I told you one minute. Jesus Christ._ before there’s a click and he’s gone. 

Jared stares a few seconds at the phone, before turning to look back at Jensen. He’s standing stock still ten feet away, staring at Jared with blank look on his face, both dogs calmly laying down at his feet. 

He awkwardly clears his throat. “That was…” he trails off.

“Chad,” Jensen finishes, voice flat, face still expressionless. 

“Yeah.” Jensen doesn’t stop staring at him, like he’s expecting Jared to say something else. For a minute he considers Chad’s words, about making sure Jensen knows what Jared will do if he doesn’t go along with him. Jensen, he’s sure, probably thinks Jared will. Chad’s call, after all, is the perfect opportunity for a reminder of what exactly it is Jensen has to lose. 

_He’s not your buddy, Jay,_ Chad had said. _And he sure as hell isn’t your boyfriend._

Jared clears his throat again, looks away. 

He can’t do it. 

“Come on, we better take them back. My mama will be expecting us for lunch soon, and we’ll probably need to help get things ready for the party.”

“Party?” Jensen repeats.

Jared clips the leashes back onto the dogs’ collars. “Yeah, you know. Christmas Eve, and the rest of my family.”

“Right.” Jensen says grimly. He doesn’t look pleased at the reminder.

The rest of Jared’s family included his grandmother, aunts, uncles, several cousins and their respective husbands, wives, boyfriends, girlfriends, their kids, a few friends the family has known for years, and two dogs. A skinny, big eared Chihuahua-Dachshund mix that wouldn’t leave it’s owner’s lap and shook and cowered whenever someone else approached it, and a small fluffy, yapping monster that Jared’s cousin Salena liked to refer to as “Nugget,” the Yo-Yo Poo.

Whatever the hell that is. 

Jensen does his best to chat and smile and answer questions with them all, but Jensen _isn’t_ actually Jared’s boyfriend, and he certainly isn’t this guy Misha he’s supposed to be, so after an hour and a half of questions about the wicker furniture he supposedly makes, and the trip where he was supposed to have gone naked mountain climbing (what the hell?), and asked for a good vegan food recipe, he needs a break. 

And if one more person asks, with that slightly uncomfortable, patronizing smile on their faces, how the Queen of England is, like Jensen (or Misha) believes he knows her _personally_ , he just might scream. 

He escapes to the quiet of the parlor. A room, Jared had told him earlier, that no one ever really spends time in. The stiff backed, floral printed sofas and antique wood tables in the room had been inherited from his great grandparents. They’re beautiful, but not comfortable, and the whole room feels empty and too still, every doily and knick-knack perfectly in place, no misplaced shoes, or stained coasters, no sign at all that people came in here. It feels unlived in. 

It reminds Jensen of his parents’ house. 

In the corner of the room there’s a glass case. Out of curiosity Jensen walks over to it, peering into the glass. On the top shelf there’s an old, hand painted tea set, probably inherited as well. The bottom shelf has a few model cars, painstakingly put together, a picture of what looks like Jared’s dad, Jerry and what could be his brother, arms around each other in front of an old mustang, and two unopened, glass Coke-a-cola bottles from the sixties.

It’s the middle shelf, though, that catches his attention. It’s filled with little glass figurines. He recognizes Meryl’s work right away, and knows he’s found the gifts Jared has designed for Sherri each year. Just like in the shop, each piece is unique, and there’s something a little whimsical about them--a young girl standing in the wind, her skirt ruffling at the knees, hair whipping behind her, face obscured by a scarf, and empty park bench with little birds scattered on it, like pigeons pecking at bread, a dog that looks suspiciously like Harley chasing its own tail. Jensen smiles at it, thinking about the time spent at the park. 

The day hadn’t been bad, not really. Not like he’d thought it would be. Surprising, yes. What with the glass shop, and the dogs, the playful but obviously strong bond between Jared and his friends. Even when they got back to the house and Jensen had to pretend to be the doting boyfriend again, it hadn’t been terrible. They’d helped get ready for the party, cleaning the downstairs rooms and helping Sherri around the kitchen as she made the party food--trays of cut vegetables and dip, a crock pot full of meatballs in a thick marinara sauce, a spicy, six layer nacho dip, and of course, the cookies, fudge and pies that were traditional Christmas desserts.

Megan had put on a Bing Crosby CD as everyone decorated the tree, and Jared had tormented everyone’s ears by wailing along. Even Jensen couldn’t have helped laughing as Jared grabbed one of the Christmas bulbs and used it as a microphone while he serenaded them all with an absolutely horrendous version of _White Christmas._

No, the day hadn’t been bad at all. In fact, the moments he happened to forget that he’d been dragged here against his will, it had been fun. Being around Jared, and Jared’s crazy family is fun. More fun than he’s had in a long while.

Jensen frowns at the thought.

“They’re kind of overwhelming, huh?”

Jensen jumps in surprise, turning around to face the door. 

Laura shrugs apologetically. “Sorry. Didn’t mean to scare you. I just thought when you disappeared you might have gone somewhere quiet for a break. I mean,” she gives him a wry smile, “I’ve been married to Jeff for years, and I still need a break from them sometimes.”

Jensen nods. “Yeah, they are a bit…”

“Loud? Energetic? Nosy?” Laura finishes for him. 

Jensen laughs. “All of the above.”

She walks further into the room, trailing her hand along the back of the old sofa. “I get it. The first time Jeff introduced to me to all of them, it was at the family reunion that summer. Imagine all of this, only three times the amount of people, and drunk.” 

He raises his eyebrows. “I don’t think I want to.”

“It was over the fourth of July.” She gives a little laugh, shaking her head. “We were at Jeff’s uncle’s ranch, and the drunken idiots almost set the barn on fire while lighting up the fireworks. I had to grab two of the kids running around and make sure they stayed far, far away.”

“And that didn’t scare you away?” 

When Laura smiles this time, it’s softer, wistful almost. “No. It was nice, you know? Being a part of such a big group who cared so much about each other. My parents died eleven years ago, so it’s been just me and my sister for a long time now, but I’ve always wanted a big family.”

“Oh, god, Laura, I’m sorry.” He takes a step closer to her, unsure what to say, but she just waves him off. 

“It’s okay. It was a long time ago. And I’ve got them now.” She gestures in the direction of the party, still smiling. “They’re loud, crazy, and nosy as all hell, but they’re good people. Especially Jared. I may be biased because he’s my brother--” He notices she doesn’t say _in law_ , as if it makes no difference, and who knows, maybe it doesn’t. “--but you’ve found a good one with him.”

Jensen forces a nod and a smile, suddenly uncomfortable. Sure, he thinks. Found a good _kidnapper._ But the thought doesn’t hold as much weight as it used to. 

“Anyway,” Laura says briskly, ending the moment, perhaps sensing Jensen’s sudden awkwardness. “We probably should get back to the group. The kids will want to open presents soon.” She nods her head to the door.

“Presents?” he asks as he follows her out. “Don’t you guys open them on Christmas morning?”

“Well _we_ do, Jeff, Jared and the rest of this house, I mean. But all the cousins and their kids? They get to open presents from their family now, and then go home and get stuff from Santa in the morning.”

“Ah, Santa. Right. Are Jordan and Madison getting a visit from Santa tonight?” he asks, referring to her and Jeff’s kids. 

Laura chuckles. “Of course they are. It’s the whole point of Christmas, right? Santa and his eight reindeers.” She rolls her eyes a little and Jensen just smiles in reply.

It had been a while since he’d had to deal with that little fairytale. Jensen’s family stopped with the whole Santa business when his little sister, Mac, had turned eleven, insisting that she knew he wasn’t real. He wonders, briefly, just what Mac is doing for Christmas Eve right now, then dismisses the thought.

The truth is, Jensen knows _exactly_ what Mac is doing. The same thing his family does every year--attending the party his father hosts for his friends--or rather, clients--every year. She is probably standing in her cocktail dress--one Mom picked out--glass of champagne in her hand, Dad approved date at her side, politely chatting to someone she only sees once or twice a year. 

The complete opposite of what Jensen’s experiencing at the Padalecki’s. For one thing, he doesn’t think a one of them would know the word _polite_ if it came up and smacked them in the face. 

Well, that’s not fair. Sherri is definitely polite, and so is Laura for that matter, and of course Megan, she’d been nothing but _polite_ to him the whole time he was here. In fact, he thinks with an almost fond smile, she’d be able to handle herself at one of his father’s parties. Probably take a few of the snobs down a peg or two, even. 

They go back into the living room, where most of the people are, and Jared looks up when he enters, immediately coming to his side. “Hey, Misha,” he says brightly, throwing an arm sloppily around Jensen’s shoulders. He’s close enough that Jensen can smell the alcohol from the eggnog on his breath, and Jensen stiffens and begins to pull away until he catches Laura looking at them, eyes thoughtful. 

He forces himself to lean into the touch. “Hey,” he replies, much more subdued than Jared, who was probably feeling the affects of the eggnog.

“Where’d you go? You almost missed present time.” 

“Just talking to Laura in the parlor.” 

A slight crease appears between Jared’s brows and he looks at Laura, probably searching her face for any sign that Jensen had told her the truth. 

Laura smiles and shrugs, palms up. “Those of us not Padalecki born need a break from the chaos sometimes. 

Jared’s face clears and he laughs. “True, true. Even _I_ need a break from it.”

“Whatever.” He nudges Jared gently in the ribs, and then hopes Laura didn’t see Jared’s quick glance of surprise at the action. “From what I’ve seen you’re at the center of it.”

As if to prove this point, Jordan, Madison and three other kids whose names Jensen didn’t catch run up to Jared and start tugging on his pants and free hand. “Uncle Jay it’s present time! And you gotta be Santa!” 

Jared lets go of Jensen’s shoulders and bends down. “Me?” he asks in the overly friendly tone reserved for kids and his dogs. “But I thought it was Uncle Rodger’s turn to be Santa this year.” He gestures over at one of his cousins, a dark haired man just a few years older than Jared, who’s sitting on the couch, deep in conversation with Jerry. 

A blonde boy who looks to be about ten frowns. “Uncle Rodger’s no fun. He always makes us wait until _everyone_ has a present before we can open any. Besides, he doesn’t want to do it this year. He said so.”

“Oh he did, did he?” Jared chuckles. “Well I guess that means I’m Santa. Now who’s going to be my little helper elf?” 

He looks hopefully at Jensen and he quickly backs away, palms out. “Oh no,” he shakes his head. “I’m not going to be anyone’s elf.”

The very put upon sigh Jared gives is for show, and Jensen can’t help the slight smile that twitches at his lips. “What about you, Jenna?” he asks a little red headed girl who’d been hanging quietly at the back. “Do you want to help Santa?”

She nods quietly and Jared stands up, bending down to place a gentle hand on her shoulder as he leads her to the tree, the rest of the kids follow eagerly. Jared plants himself right in front of it, within easy reach of the monstrous stack of presents that everyone brought, and immediately starts digging through it. “Here’s one for Dennis, and one for Madison, ooh, one for Aunt Trish.” He gives the small box to Jenna and points her to the woman sitting in the rocking chair and she runs to give it to her. 

Jensen moves from the doorway to the couch, planting himself in between Jared’s grandmother and Rodger. He watches as the kids rip into their gifts, red, green and silver wrapping paper flying everywhere. Jeff’s little boy, Jordan, runs up to Jared and asks where his present is and Jared insists that he can’t find one, a mischievous smile on his lips before he grabs the pouting boy and turns him upside down, tickling him. When the kid’s out of breath he sits him back down and pulls a present from behind his back, giving it to him with a grin. 

“He’s good with them, isn’t he?” Jensen looks over at Jared’s grandmother--Grandma Rae, is how he introduce her--and lifts his eyebrows in question. She nods at the kids. “He’s good with them.”

“Yeah,” Jensen nods, looking back at where Jared is sending Jenna off with another gift. “He is.” 

“Too bad he doesn’t have any of his own. We all know he wants kids.” She gives a little sigh. “I’d thought while he was in college that he’d be the first to give me great grandkids, but well, things change.” She sighs again, the brightly colored Christmas tree earring she’s wearing jiggling with the motion, but smiles and pats his knee when he shifts uncomfortably. “Don’t worry, I know. You love who you love, but seeing a few more great grandkids before I go would be nice.” 

Rodger moves beside him and out of the corner of his eyes Jensen can see him staring at them, frown on his face. Jensen clears his throat. “Well, uh. You know,” he stutters, “there’s always adoption. I mean,” he says hastily, “it’s too soon between Jared and I to be even thinking--I mean, well. It’s always an option. Someday. Maybe.”

Grandma Rae just smiles kindly at him and gives his knee another pat. “That would be nice,” she says simply, then goes back to watching the kids open their gifts.

He too looks back at the kids, slumping against the couch. Beside him Rodger shifts a little, as if to give him more space, but Jensen doesn’t pay him any attention. It’s surreal, Jensen thinks, to talk to someone about having kids with a man he’s only known for a little more than a day. 

“Hey, Sherri,” Jared’s dad calls from the corner of the room, where the refreshments are set up. “We’re out of eggnog. Do we have any more left in the kitchen?”

Sherri looks up from her spot on the floor, where she’s helping one of Jared’s cousins, a little girl who can’t be much older than one, open a present. “Yeah, there’s more in the fridge. I’ll go get it.” 

Jensen practically jumps from his seat. “I’ll get it Sherri, there’s no need for you to get up.”

“Oh, you sure?” 

Jensen smiles smoothly at her. “Of course, you’re busy with her, why don’t you let me be useful.” 

“Alright. It’s in the big yellow pitcher in the back, just bring that out and pour it right into the punch bowl.”

Jensen nods to show that he understands, and hightails it out of there. He doesn’t go straight for the fridge, instead collapsing against the doorframe of the kitchen, bringing one hand to rub wearily at his face. 

Talking about _adopting_ kids with Jared, Jesus Christ. 

“Jensen?” Comes a soft voice behind him, and he nearly groans. Jared is the last thing he needs right now. 

He drops his hand and shoots Jared and irritated glare. “Don‘t you have some kids to play Santa to?”

Jared bites his lip. “You took out of there kinda fast. I just wanted to make sure you were all right.”

“Peachy,” he says flatly, leaning his head back against the wooden frame and closing his eyes. “Your grandmother wants us to have kids.”

Jared makes a small shuffling noise, like he can’t decide if he should move or not. He finally does, and all of a sudden he’s in the doorway with Jensen, standing so close Jensen can feel the body heat from him. Jensen stiffens and opens his eyes. Jared’s face is barely a foot away from his, hazel eyes looking at him in something that might be guilt, and concern.

“Look, Jensen, I know my family can be a bit much--” Jensen snorts. “--okay, a lot much, and I know you didn’t volunteer for this. But just…” he sighs and looks away, raking a hand through his hair. “Thanks, Jensen.” He meets Jensen’s eyes again. “You have no idea how much this whole thing meant for my family.”

Jensen should walk away. He should snap something angry and spiteful, something sarcastic and mean and purposefully meant to knock off that stupid, grateful, puppy dog expression on Jared’s face. He should do all that, and then stomp back into the living room with the rest of the people there, where he can use them all as a shield between Jared’s earnest eyes and fucking dimples.

Instead he stutters out, “You’re welcome, I guess,” with a shaky smile.

Jared doesn’t say anything for a minute, just stares at Jensen, eyes flickering back and forth. Finally he bites his lip, looking like he’s about to say something else. 

“Jared Tristan Padalecki don’t you move!”

They both jump, jerking way from each other and into their separate sides of the doorframe. Jared’s uncle is standing in the hall, an empty eggnog glass in one hand. Apparently he couldn’t wait until Jensen brought it back to the living room. 

Then again, who knows how long Jensen has been standing here, soulfully staring into his kidnapper’s eyes. 

“What is it Uncle David?” Jared asks with a frown.

David just grins at him. “Hey everybody!” he calls back to the family room. “Jared and Misha have been caught standing under the mistletoe!”

Jensen jumps again and looks up. Sure enough, just a foot and a half above them hangs a scrawny little twig with leaves. 

Fuck.

In just a few seconds the hallway is crowded with Jared’s relatives, all staring at them expectantly, stupid grins on their faces. “Well, what are you waiting for,” Jeff says, practically bouncing with glee at another chance to embarrass them. “Kiss.”

“Guys, come on,” Jared pleads, flushing and avoiding looking at Jensen. Jensen feels his own face burn. 

Jeff shakes his head. “Nope. You’re not getting out of this one. It’s a Christmas tradition, Jay.”

Jared turns to Jensen, apology on his face and Jensen tenses. “Jared,” he hisses under his breath, but the other man pays no attention. He places a hand on Jensen’s shoulder to keep him still, then leans forward and kisses him. 

It’s brief, barely a peck. Just a dry brush of Jared’s lips against Jensen’s, too fast for his brain to even really comprehend it before Jared’s pulling away. Jensen sucks in a gasp of air anyway.

“Oh, come on now,” Jared’s uncle protests. “That ain’t a real kiss.”

“You guys are together, aren’t you?” One of the female cousins Jensen didn’t get the name of pipes up. “Act like you like each other.”

Jared hesitates, sliding a nervous glance at him, questioning. Jensen takes a deep breath, eyes flickering from Jared’s face to the crowd of Padeleckis watching them, and gives a barely perceptible nod. 

It isn’t a peck this time. Jared takes a step closer, placing his body not half an inch away from Jensen’s, and leans forward again, the hand on his shoulder moving up to the back of his neck, long fingers tangling in the hair at his nape, thumb stroking the skin just in front of his ear. Jensen unconsciously lets his eyes close.

Jared’s lips are slightly chapped, but warm, pressing softly, insistently against his until Jensen gives in and kisses back. He breathes in a shuddering breath through his nose at the contact, feeling hyper aware of every inch of his body that is in contact with Jared’s. His lips move slowly, languidly, against Jensen’s, parting just enough to brush the tip of his tongue against Jensen’s bottom lip, not seeking entrance, but just testing, tasting. Jensen lets him, too caught up in the kiss to even think about why they’re doing it, or the audience they have. Finally Jared pulls back, nipping slightly at Jensen’s bottom lip before letting it go. He doesn’t go far though, just pulls back enough for them to stare dumbly at each other, eyes wide, breathing short, feeling the puffs of those breaths on their still tingling lips.  
Jared’s family bursts into applause.

For the second time that night Jared and Jensen jump, startled. “Whoo, boy! _That_ was kiss!” David exclaims, coming over to clap both of them on the shoulder. “Guess you two like each other after all, huh?” Jensen gives him a pained smile and doesn’t move, frozen, as the rest of the people watching them break up, heading back to living room now that the show’s over. 

“Um,” Jared starts, face red and hand going up to the back of his neck in what Jensen now knows is a nervous gesture. “Well, that was--”

“Gotta get the eggnog,” Jensen mutters, cutting him off. He ducks around Jared and into the kitchen, heading straight for the fridge. He can feel Jared’s eyes on him as he walks away and the back of his neck heats up. 

He doesn’t look at Jared as he walks back to the living room, quickly pouring the rest of the eggnog into the punch bowl and turning right around, avoiding everyone’s eyes as he carries the empty pitcher back to the kitchen. It’s when he’s leaving the kitchen a second time that he hears it. 

“God, fucking fags. I can’t believe they allow that in this house.” 

Jensen stops in his tracks, fury flooding through him. He clenches his fists and turns to where the man’s voice came from. Rodger and his girlfriend are standing in the small hallway leading to the downstairs bathroom and laundry room. Rodger’s back is to Jensen and the woman is too short to see past him, so neither of them realize Jensen is there. 

He fully intends to let them know. 

He’s taken two forceful steps in their direction when someone steps directly in his way, forcing him to stop. “Just let it go Jensen,” Jared murmurs, walking forward and forcing Jensen to back up, away from the hall. He wraps his huge hands around Jensen shoulders, gentle, but firm when Jensen strains against them. 

“Did you hear him?” he growls. “You’re just going to let him say it?”

“Rodger’s a bigoted asshole, always has been. There’s at least one in every family and I can’t change that.” Jared is still murmuring, low and soothing. He rubs his hands up and down slightly on Jensen’s shoulders, trying to calm him down. 

Jensen doesn’t calm. “You shouldn’t accept shit like that from people,” he hisses. “You need to _fight it_. Nothing will change if you don’t.” He tries to go around Jared.

He doesn’t let him, taking a step forward and forcing Jensen backwards in the small space, hands still holding him back. “Yeah, sometimes you do,” Jared says, voice still too calm. “But not tonight, not at my parents’ house, and not on Christmas Eve.”

For one endless moment they just stand there, Jensen tense and rigid against Jared‘s hold on him, practically shaking with the amount of anger and frustration pouring through him, and Jared calm, steady, sure of himself in a way that Jensen has only seen him when he was planning with Meryl or playing with his dogs in the yard. 

Huffing out a frustrated breath, he knocks Jared’s hands off him, casting one more dark look in the direction of Rodger and the woman before stepping back. Jared looks at him in concern, holding one hand out, as if to grab his shoulder again, but Jensen brusquely waves him off. “Gotta piss,” he grunts, and stomps off down the hallway, passing the living room and going into the foyer and up the stairs. 

He bursts into the upstairs bathroom, barely flicking on the light before he’s slamming the door shut. He grips the edges of the sink and ducks his head, breathing harsh. 

What was that down there?

Not the thing with Rodger, Jensen has no problem with fighting an asshole who thinks he’s better than everyone. But the thing with Jared, the kiss, what the hell was that? His heartbeat picks up just thinking about it. 

He lifts his head, looks at his reflection in the mirror. His face is flushed, the dark stain of it on his ears and his neck, continuing down beneath his collar, and his lips look red. “You can’t fall for your kidnapper,” he tells his reflection. “That’s _insane._ ”

He stares at himself a little longer, as if by doing so he could force away this sudden attraction by sheer will alone, then sighs. He turns on the water, splashes a little on his face. 

He wonders if thirty-six hours is long enough to develop Stockholm Syndrome.

When he leaves the bathroom he pauses, hesitating before going back down the stairs, eyes flickering to the phone. Making a quick decision, he stalks over and grabs the receiver, quickly dialing Chris’s number. 

“Yeah?” Chris picks up.

“Hey, it’s Jensen,” he whispers.

“Jesus, Jen!” Chris bursts out. “You had me worried. Are you okay?”

“Yeah, yeah, I’m fine. Did you get a hold of Jeff?”

“Yeah but he’s having trouble finding that Murray guy. We’ve found his apartment and his work, but he’s not there. He’s not at his family’s home either.”

Jensen looks over his shoulder and down the stairs, making sure no one is coming. “Yeah, I don’t think he’s in Dallas anymore,” he tells Chris, thinking of the little bits of the phone conversation between Chad and Jared that he’d heard at the park earlier. “I don’t know where though. He’s gotta still be in Texas.” 

Chris gives a short chuckle. “That’s a lot of ground to cover, Jensen.”

He groans in frustration. “I know. Just--keep looking all right? It’s important.”

“Whatever you say, man. You gonna tell me what’s going on now?”

“Can’t. No time, I have to get back before he thinks I’ve been gone too long.”

“Who thinks, Jen? Who?”

Jensen just sighs. “I’ll be home the day after tomorrow. Probably late. Be ready for me?”  
Chris echoes his sigh. “Yeah. Me, Jeff, the cops and hopefully this Chad guy will be waiting.”  
“Thanks Chris. Always know I can count on you.”

“Damn right,” Chris grumbles. 

Jensen smiles. “Merry Christmas, Chris. Say hello to your mom for me.” 

They say goodbye and Jensen hangs up the phone, just in time. As soon as Jensen starts heading for the stairs again, he hears Jared’s footsteps in the foyer. “Keeping tabs on me?” he says lightly when he walks down. 

Jared’s eyes are locked on his face, as if searching for something. Jensen keeps his expression carefully blank. “No,” Jared finally says. “Just…checking.”

“Well, there’s no need to check. As you can see, I didn’t escape out the window again. Now let’s get back to your family. This is a Christmas party after all.” He passes Jared, leads the way out of the foyer. 

“Right,” he hears Jared mumble behind him. 

Jensen very carefully doesn’t think about the kiss in the kitchen, or Jared’s calm, sure face and steady hands in front of the hallway leading to the laundry room, he doesn’t think about the phone call he made upstairs, or the police that will be waiting to take Jared in when they get back to Dallas.

And he doesn’t feel guilty.

Not at all.


	5. Part 5

By the time everybody leaves the house it’s almost two in the morning and Jared and Jensen practically zombie walk up the stairs. He grabs his bag of clothes and toiletries and changes in the bathroom, just like last night, and doesn’t say anything when he comes back in the room and Jared’s already sitting on the bed, handcuffs in hand. 

“Uh,” Jared starts, but Jensen doesn’t let him finish, walking right up to the bed and thrusting his left arm out, letting him slap the cuff on his wrist. As soon as the handcuffs are on both of them Jensen flips off the light and crawls on the bed, near the wall, practically dragging Jared with him. He feels Jared shift onto his stomach beside him, and he pulls the covers up and closes his eyes.

He falls almost instantly to sleep.

When he wakes up there’s a warm, comfortable weight against his back. A long arm is wrapped around his waist, big hand tucked flat against his chest, fingers resting just below Jensen’s own. He can feel Jared’s breath skirt along the skin of his neck, hot and moist, every shallow pull of air moving his firm chest against Jensen’s shoulder.

Jensen doesn’t want to move. 

Jensen is warm and comfortable, just on the edge of sleep and awake. Jared’s legs are pressed tight against his own, top of his feet rubbing up against the sole’s of Jensen’s, and it’s too close and nothing he should allow and Jensen doesn’t want to move. 

The choice is taken from him when there’s suddenly loud knocking on the door, followed by excited voices. “Uncle Jay, Misha get up! It’s Christmas!” After this exclamation there’s another bout of knocking, shaking the door, and Jared jerks awake. 

“Uncle Jay wake up! It’s time for presents!” the kids say one more time, and then he can hear them run down the hall laughing, presumably to force someone else out of bed.

Jared is still for a moment against him, and then he carefully moves away, as if hoping Jensen was still asleep and didn’t notice him wrapped around him. 

Jensen tells himself he doesn’t miss the warmth.

Christmas morning is all about tradition in the Padalecki household.

Tradition one: everyone must wake up at a god-awful time in the morning, no matter how ridiculously late you stayed up the night before.

That is the reason why Jared is now stumbling blearily down the stairs, still in his sweats, and in dire need of coffee. Jensen is currently taking a shower, something Jared doesn’t need to think about because his morning fogged brain seems to get stuck on a loop with it, thinking of Jensen in the shower, Jensen naked in the shower, Jensen naked in the shower with Jared and--well. 

You get the point.

And these thoughts are ones Jared doesn’t need to be having about the guy he kidnapped, handcuffed to his car and dragged four hours away from his home and forced to him to be his make believe boyfriend. Even though if Jensen really _was_ his boyfriend he’d be allowed think about Jensen in the shower, Jensen naked in the shower, Jensen naked in the shower with--  
Jared groans as he walks into the kitchen, rubbing one hand briskly over his face in an attempt to either scrub the thoughts from his mind, or wake up. 

“Coffee?” 

He looks up, blinking blearily at his sister, who’s holding a mug of coffee out to him. “You are a goddess.” He takes the cup, eagerly sipping at the hot liquid within it.

Megan chuckles. “How about you remember that the next time I need a favor, huh?” She walks over to the fridge and starts pulling out cans of Pillsbury cinnamon rolls.

This is part of tradition two: Mama never makes breakfast on Christmas. 

Which means, since nobody else wants to slave away on a breakfast for ten Christmas morning either, they usually buy enough quick breakfast foods--cinnamon rolls, waffles, toaster strudels--to feed a small army. 

Jared grabs a few cans, pops them open and starts arranging them on the trays Megan has already laid out. They’re going to bake five cans worth this time, one more than last year, and probably one more than next year too. After all, it’s not like Jensen is sticking around.   
“What in the world did those rolls ever do to you?” 

Jared looks up, blinking in surprise. “Huh?”

“You were scowling at them like they personally insulted you,” Megan nods at the dough in his hands. “What’s up?”

Jared shakes his head. “Nothing. I’m just tired is all. It’s too goddamn early.”

She’s quiet, watching him as he unravels the tube of dough into separate rolls and places them on the tray, taking care with each one so it’s exactly the same amount of space between them. 

“Jay,” she finally says softly. “You can’t hide from me. I’m your sister and I know it’s more than that.”

Jared drops the dough, bracing himself on the counter. The cinnamon sugar from the rolls has gotten all over his hands and he stares at his fingers, the sugar a bunch of brown dots scattered across the skin. 

_Like freckles,_ he thinks, and sighs. 

“Have you…” he starts tentatively, “have you ever gotten yourself in a situation that you thought you could handle, but then halfway through everything changes and you suddenly don’t think you can handle it at all?” 

He thinks about waking up this morning with his arm around Jensen, how _right_ waking up like that felt, something he hasn’t experienced in a long time. He thinks about how he was sure, just for a moment before he pulled away that Jensen was awake and aware of what they were doing, thinks about the other man’s bed head and pillow creased cheeks as he sat up, the way he didn’t meet Jared’s eyes even for a glare as he shuffled off to the shower. 

He looks over at Megan. She’s staring at him in concern, pursed lips and crease between her brows. “That’s… kinda vague, Jay.” 

Jared snorts. “Yeah. Guess it is.” He goes back to the rolls.

“Is this..” Megan hesitates for a moment. “Is this about Misha? Are you… breaking up?”  
Jared can barely hold in a snort. Misha and him? Already broken up, and it actually didn’t bother him any more. But he and Jensen…

Well. They were never together to begin with. 

Jared shakes his head and forces a smile for his sister. “No, it’s not that. Just something…else. I’d really rather not go into it right now.” 

Megan gives him a small, understanding smile and nods. “Sure, but you know you can always talk to me if you need to, Jay.” 

“Thanks, sis.” He wraps a long arm around her shoulders, pressing a kiss on the top of her head. 

This is why Jared always goes to Megan when he has a problem. She always knows when to push and when to back off, and when he just needs to lean a little on that unwavering, sisterly support. Jeff, as much as Jared loves him, would just keep digging until he found out exactly what was wrong, his urge to protect his little brother too strong for him to ignore. 

By the time Jeff, the brother in question, walks into the kitchen, Jared and Megan are already back to making breakfast. Jared is pulling out the first two trays of steaming rolls and Megan is peeling away the paper on the next two cans. Jeff frowns at them. “No toaster strudels?”

Jared grins. Jeff’s epic love affair with the frozen pastries was long time joke in the family. “In the freezer, Jeff, waiting for you to do the honors.”

“Awesome,” he mumbles, and ambles over to the fridge. 

The three of them finish making breakfast together, and Jared manages to stop stressing about the whole thing with Jensen and allows himself to fall back into the playful rhythm of siblings. They tease each other, bantering back and forth. Jared makes a comment about Megan and Ben’s sex life and she throws a banana at his head. Jared catches it and shoves the whole thing into his mouth--peel and all, much to Megan’s disgust--only to choke on it when Jeff complains that he didn’t need to see such an accurate example of _Jared’s_ sex life. 

By the time they are finished Jared feels more relaxed than he has in a long time, before Misha broke up with him, even. Moving to Dallas had been a good idea, Jared truly believes that. It was exactly what he needed, to get away from the worried looks of his family and the kind suggestions from concerned friends, away from the constant reminders around him of how things could have been, of how he _wanted_ them to be. He was a mess after college, he’d be the first to admit it, and going away and starting fresh was the only thing that helped.

Still, Jared thinks as he watches Jeff pretend to drop the giant serving tray--taken from the time Mama worked for a catering company one summer between teaching at the elementary school, and only used on Christmas morning--they’d loaded with food. Still. He’s missed being home.

They take the trays loaded with rolls, toaster strudels and Eggo waffles into the family room where the rest of the family is gathered, going back a second time for the all important coffee and orange juice. Everything goes on the big coffee table in the center and everyone gathers round it, grabbing what they want before settling back into the chair and couches they were on before. 

Jared see Jensen on the loveseat, coffee mug in hand, eyes slit in sleepy pleasure as he sips it. Smiling fondly, he makes a plate for him, piling it with rolls and waffles, grabbing a fork and tucking the bottle of syrup under his arm. He walks over to him. “Here,” he says, holding out the plate. “While coffee is vital for life, you need to grab the food fast before it gets eaten.” 

Jensen takes the plate, lips twitching like he’s not sure if he should smile or not. Jared just gives him a small one of his own and puts the syrup on the side table by the couch, going back to get his own food. 

Perhaps he should have listened to his own advice; by the time he gets his plate almost all the rolls--Jared’s favorite--are gone, only one, scrawny burnt one left on the tray. He pouts, but takes it anyway, snagging the rest of the cream cheese toaster strudels just for spite when he notices that Jeff has three rolls on his plate. Plate filled, he heads back to the loveseat, sitting down by Jensen and immediately digging in. 

“Here,” Jensen says softly, and puts one of the rolls from his plate on Jared’s. Jared stares at it in surprise, something warm building in his chest. 

“Thanks,” his says, just as softly. Jensen gives him an awkward smile and turns away, focusing on his own food. His hair is still wet from the shower and Jared can feel the moisture lingering on his clothes, smell the shampoo he used. He has a sudden urge to scoot closer, bury his nose against Jensen’s neck and breathe deep. 

He bites into his roll. 

The food distracts the kids for a little while, but soon they’re both done and bouncing around the room, calling for presents. Megan, since she’s the youngest of the siblings, abandons her food and sits in front of the large stack of presents that mysteriously appeared again, ready to play Santa this time.

It’s tradition number three.

Jordan and Madison happily serve as her little helper elves, gleefully carrying presents to the adults, but even more gleefully stacking gifts in their own piles on the floor. Once everything is divided they run back to their piles, looking up at his mom in expectation. 

She smiles at them and pulls out her camera. “Alright, now everyone can open up _one_ present.”

Tradition four. 

Jared grabs the top box of his pile and checks who it’s from--Jeff. He grins and starts ripping at the wrapping paper, even though he knows exactly what it is. Then he notices that beside him, Jensen is stock still. He glances over in curiosity to see that Jensen is staring at the pile of presents at his feet, unreadable expression on his face. 

“What is it?” he whispers.

“I’ve got presents.”

“Yeah?” Jared asks, confused. “Of course you do. You don’t think we’d just open gifts in front of you, did you?”

Jensen shoots him and incredulous look. “But they barely even know me.”

Jared grimaces a little. “Well, some of these gifts might be based on what I’d told them about Misha. Sorry.” 

Jensen nods and reaches to grab one of the gifts, shoulders relaxing, as if that piece of information made it easier for him to accept the gifts. 

They all quickly made their way through the gifts, floor disappearing under the amount of wrapping paper, ribbons and bows. Jared got the expected gifts: new books his mom thought he’d like, the new video game that Jeff bought every year with the knowledge that they’d play it together later that afternoon. His favorites were probably the play dough sculptures from Jordan and Madison, though: a rather squished, if happy looking daisy and what might have been an attempt at one of Jared’s dogs. Or a dinosaur. 

Most of Jensen’s gifts were, as Jared predicted, originally supposed to be for Misha. A book of yoga positions and their history, as well as a certificate for two free lessons at a gym in Dallas from Megan, and another book, this one a biography on the Queen of England--Jared guessed they were really stretching for that one--from Jeff and Laura, but there was also a nice watch from his parents and a dark sweater, thick and soft to the touch, that Jared knows for a fact that his mom went out and bought yesterday after Jensen was complaining that the sweater he was wearing yesterday--bought by Chad at Wal-mart--was making him itch.

After everyone finishes opening their presents Jared’s mama gets up and walks to the fireplace, which is absolutely covered in red and white stockings, all the same size and all stuffed full.

Tradition six. 

“Since Misha is the new addition here,” she says, “he gets to pick his out first. Come on up here, Misha.”

Jensen shoots Jared an uncertain glance and Jared shoos him off the couch. “Go on and pick one out, it’s tradition.”

Hesitantly, Jensen makes his way over to the fireplace where his mom is smiling at him. He stares at the stockings for a second, analyzing them, before taking one near the end on the right. 

“Good,” she says. “But don’t open until everyone else has one.” He smiles at her and nods, walking back to the loveseat. 

The kids go next, followed by Ben, then Laura, then Megan, Jared and Jeff--youngest to oldest--and then his mama grabs the last two, handing one of them to his dad before sitting down with her own stocking. “Okay, guys: dump.”

And that’s what everyone does, right into their lap, candy and toys and little holiday knick-knacks scattering everywhere. Jensen looks around the room for a second, eyebrows raised, before following suit. 

Jared digs through his pile of candy and toys, pulling out a bright green yo-yo and laughing in delight. “Yes! I got it this year.” Across the room Jeff grumbles. The yo-yo has always been both of their favorites, and they’ve always fought over it. One year their mama had gotten the idea to buy two yo-yos and make sure that Jeff and Jared had picked the stockings with them in it, but when Jeff and Jared just argued over which one was better she’d given up, and they were fine with that: the arguing was just as much tradition as everything else. 

Jensen snorts beside him, holding up one of his prizes. “A bouncy ball? Seriously? Aren’t we a little old for this stuff?”

Jared grins, knocking his shoulder against Jensen’s. “Welcome to the Padaleckis, Jensen. We’re all a bunch of big kids.”

Jensen stiffens beside him, staring at Jared with wide eyes, and Jared doesn’t know why until:  
“Jensen? I thought your name is Misha.”

Oh. Oops. 

“Uh,” Jared stutters, looking from Jensen to his sister, who’s staring at them in confusion, completely at a loss for what to say. “Um.”

Jensen comes to rescue. “Misha’s actually my middle name,” he says, and Jared almost sags in relief. 

“Jensen Misha? Poor soul.” Ben mutters and Megan elbows him in the stomach, causing him to grunt.

“So do you just prefer Misha then?” his father asks.

Jensen pauses, then gives Jared a little smirk. “Not really. But I have friends who call me Misha just to torment me, they say it sounds like a girl name. They were with me when I met Jared, and he’s insisted on calling me that since. I guess he just likes it better.” 

“Oh, I don’t know,” Jared says lowly, meeting Jensen’s eyes. “I think I’m starting to like Jensen better.”

Jensen stares back at him for a moment, silent, then gives a little cough and looks away. Jared notices in delight that the tips of Jensen’s ears are a little pink. “Anyway,” he tells his family, “Jensen is the name I usually go by.” 

Ha, Jared thinks. Isn’t that the truth. 

Jared sits back in his chair and starts snacking on the candy, unwrapping a piece of chocolate with Santa’s face on it and popping it in his mouth. 

“Jesus,” Jensen says. “You just had a breakfast big enough for three, and all of it sweet. How can you eat that?”

Jared just smiles and unwraps another one, biting into it with an exaggerated moan, pleased when Jensen grimaces. He’s suddenly in a great mood, despite the close call.

Jared’s grandmother arrives about an hour after that and she, Sherri and Laura lock themselves in the kitchen after that, preparing Christmas dinner. Jerry disappears into his garage and the rest of them pile onto the couches in front of the TV as Jeff hooks up the gaming console. He pops in the game he gave Jared, a car racing game that Jensen has never heard of, and they both grab controllers, starting an intense game of yelling and taunting, elbowing and smacking at each other’s hands in an attempt to mess the other one up.

Jensen stares at the crappy graphics and frowns. “What is this?” he asks Jared on a break between games--Jeff had won and he’s currently doing a victory lap around the living room, picking up his kids and swinging them around. 

Jared shrugs. “I have no idea. I have never heard of it before.”

“Your brother gave you a game you’ve never heard of? A crap one at that?”

Jared shrugs, “Well, yeah. It’s what we do. The point is to get a crappy game we can play and beat while I’m here. Check out the game I bought him.” He gestures at the coffee table, where another game lays. Jensen picks it up. 

Harry Potter and the Sorcerer’s Stone. For PS1. 

He looks at Jeff, a grown man with a wife and kids, and snorts. Jared grins as if knowing what Jensen’s thinking. He holds up the controller. “You wanna play winner?”

They play video games for almost an hour. The Padalecki family is just as loud and enthusiastic about video games as they are about everything else, even Megan, who is usually the calm one gets into it, yelling at the screen when it’s her turn, yelling at the players when it’s not. Jensen got trumped when it came to the two person racer--Jared and Jeff had been honing their skills far too long for Jensen to take on either of them, but when they switched to Harry Potter he was winning, beating Jared’s time at grabbing the snitch by three minutes. 

“Hah! Yes!” Megan yells, who, strangely enough, had become Jensen’s cheerleader around his second racing game. “Take that Jared, Mi-Jensen beat you!”

That’s another thing that’s a little overwhelming. After the incident while opening presents, most of the family had taken to calling him by his real name, even Jared. It’s a little weird to hear them say it after two days of pretending to be Misha, but a relief too, because it’s easier. He doesn’t have to remind himself that when they say ‘Misha’ they mean him, doesn’t have to stop himself from correcting them every time. He’s not sure it’s a good thing, though. It makes it easier to get lost in the excitement and enthusiasm that is inherent in this family.

Easier to forget it’s all a lie. 

Jensen hands the controller to Megan, suddenly not in the mood for video games anymore. “Take over for me?” He stands up. 

“Sure!” She hops into the spot he vacated. “Don’t worry, I won’t let them win.”

Jensen forces a smile and nods. Jared looks up from the came. “Where you goin’?” he asks, but his tone is curious, not suspicious. 

“Just thought I’d see if Sherri and your grandma need any help in the kitchen.”

Jeff snorts. “Suck up,” he says, teasing. 

Something inside Jensen clenches and he leaves the room in a hurry. 

The thing is, he wants this. He likes this family and their crazy love of food and everything loud and obnoxious, even likes their weird family traditions. He’s finding himself enjoying himself more and more the longer he stays here, and he’s almost stopped fighting it, not sure he wants to any more. They’re so close to each other, always teasing and joking around, switching to caring and concern at the slightest provocation. Even the way Megan has grilled him over the holiday is done out of her love for Jared--she’s just being protective. 

Jensen hasn’t had something like that in a very long time. 

It’s just Sherri in the kitchen when he enters it, sitting at the island and slicing potatoes. “Where’s Laura and Grandma Rae?” he asks. 

“Oh, they ran to the store to get some items we forgot.” She rolls her eyes a little. “Grandma Rae refuses to cook the ham without cloves. Apparently brown sugar alone just does not work.” 

“Ham? Not turkey?” Jensen asks as he takes a seat at the island.

She looks at him askance. “Turkey is for Thanksgiving. We eat ham for Christmas.”

Ah. Another tradition. Jensen nods, unable to help the little smile on his face. “Is there something I can do to help?”

“Oh ho! Jared really did pick a good one this time.” She chuckles at Jensen’s flush. “How are you at cooking?”

“Not too good, really,” he says apologetically. “But I can slice vegetables. Is there going to be a salad?”

“Yup. Makings are in the fridge.” He gets up and gets them, grabbing a knife and the cutting board and setting up a little station at the island beside Sherri. 

They work in quiet for a while, each absorbed in their separate tasks. When the silence is breached, it’s by Sherri. 

“I’m glad he’s found you, Jensen.” 

He looks up from the carrot he’s shredding. “Hmm?”

“Jared. I’m glad you two are together. He seems better with you, more sure of himself, less nervous.” 

Jensen shifts on his stool uncomfortably. “I’m sure that’s not because of me.”

“I think it is.” Sherri puts down the potato she was skinning and turns on her stool to face him, face serious. “Jensen, Jared has brought plenty of girlfriends and boyfriends home before--not for a while now, but he has, and they were all nice girls and boys, the kind of people a person wants to take home to his parents. But it was always for our benefit, an attempt, I think, to make us believe that he was all right, that he was happy up there in Dallas. Ever since Sandy he’s--” she cuts herself off.

Jensen frowns. “Sandy. Who’s Sandy?” 

She studies him seriously for a moment, and Jensen starts to get nervous, wondering if this was something he should have known. Finally she looks down, picking up the potato again. “I’m not surprised he hasn’t told you about Sandy,” she says quietly. “He doesn’t even talk about her to us.”

“Who is she?” Jensen asks, curious.

“The woman Jared was in love with.”

Jensen’s quiet, weighing that statement in his mind. Not “Jared’s girlfriend,” but “the woman Jared was in love with.” What had happened?

Sherri hesitates when he voices the question out loud. “Sandy moved to San Antonio during Jared’s senior year of high school. She was a year behind him. They started dating almost immediately, doing all the typical high school couple things together--homecoming, prom, all that. Jared went on to the University of Texas here in San Antonio, and Sandy followed him a year later. They got an apartment together her sophomore year.” 

Sherri shakes her head smiling. “I’d never seen that boy so happy than when he was around her. He looked at her like she was responsible for the stars at night. And we all thought it was the same for her.” She goes quiet.

Jensen waits, knowing the rest of the story was coming. 

“Jared proposed to her his junior year. He was thinking of applying for grad school after he got his Bachelors and he wanted her to go with him when he moved.” 

“I take it she didn’t say yes,” Jensen says quietly. 

Sherri shakes her head. “It was like he had his whole life planned out: he was going to become a teacher, get married, have a few kids. It was probably all perfect in his mind, and he wanted it all with Sandy. When it turned out she didn’t want the same thing, he just… didn’t know what to do with himself after.”

“She moved out of the apartment,” she continues. “Jared was a mess afterwards. He fell into a depression, dropping out of school and just falling into himself. He barely went out with his friends, we didn’t hear from him for weeks at a time, he stopped going to work and lost his job. He was just… a mess,” she repeats. “After a while he finally dragged himself out of it, but he wasn’t he same after that. He cared less about himself, or at least thought less about himself, and I think he believed we thought less of him too, because he became almost desperate to prove himself to us.” 

She sighs. “He never got that we don’t care if he is successful, or if the person he finds to spend his life with is perfect. We just want him happy.”

Jensen is quiet for a moment, absorbing this. “And you think he’s…happy with me?”

Sherri turns to face him. “The way he looks at you? I haven’t seen that look in years.” She gives him a pointed look. “Since Sandy.”

Jensen has no idea what to say to that. He wants to protest, tell her no, that can’t be, because this whole thing is fake, it’s a _lie_ , and there’s no way he can be that important to Jared in just two days. 

The idea is terrifying. 

And thrilling, Jensen can’t help but think, and he hates himself a little for it, for the way his stomach gave a little jump at the words, the sudden flush on his face. 

This isn’t good.

“What happened to Sandy, any way? I mean, where is she?” Jensen asks in an attempt to distract himself.

Sherri smiles sadly. “She’s still here in San Antonio. She lives about fifteen minutes away with her husband. They just had their first child last spring.” 

They finish the rest of the potatoes and vegetables in quiet, both lost in their thoughts.  
After a while Laura and Jared’s grandmother come back, and Jensen uses the sudden lack of room as an excuse to quickly finish the salad and then leave. In the living room Jeff and Megan are gone, but Jared is still in front of the TV, controller in hand. Jensen stops just inside the doorway, watching him thoughtfully. 

He’s racing against his nephew and, from the way the game is gong, letting him win. Jordan gets to the finish line first and he jumps up, pumping his fist in the air, and Jensen can’t help but smile, remembering Jared doing something similar his first night here. 

“Way to go, dude!” Jared congratulates him. “That was awesome.” 

“It’s my turn now!” Madison says, reaching for the controller. “I wanna race Uncle Jay!”

Jordan keeps it out of her reach. “You’re too young for this game, Maddie. You’ll just crash.”   
Madison pouts “I will not.”

“Will too. This game is only for big kids.” 

Madison pouts even more and Jared scoops her up, placing her in his lap. “It’s okay Maddie, you can race against Jordan and I’ll help you. I’ll make sure you don’t crash.”

Jensen watches them play. Jared’s big hands are careful on Madison’s little ones as he helps her with the controller, voice gentle and encouraging. 

More sure of himself, Sherri had said, and yeah, he could see that. Jared barely resembles now the desperate man who’d cuffed him to the car door two days ago. But was it really because of him? 

Perhaps sensing someone behind him, Jared looks up and way from the TV, smiling when he see Jensen, cheeks dimpling. When Jensen smiles back, it’s genuine. 

Maybe it is a good thing. Maybe.

Dinner goes well. Everyone agrees that the cloves made the ham, and Grandma Rae smirks at Jared’s mama. They break out the fine table cloths and china for the meal, but everyone is relaxed around the table, telling stories of holidays past, like the time years ago that Grandpa Richard was forced into helping Grandma Rae in the kitchen and as he pulled the twenty pound turkey out of the freezer he accidentally dropped it, right on his foot.

“What great disasters happened when he dropped it?” Jared asks across the table, grinning.   
His mama smiles back at him. “The fall of Turkey.” 

“The breaking up of China.” Megan adds, in an overly tragic tone. 

“And the running of Greece.” Jeff laughs. 

The table cracks up at the old joke. Jared glances over at Jensen and grins wider when he see Jensen chuckling along. 

Maybe it’s his imagination, but things have been easier with Jensen today. Conversations between them are a lot less stilted and Jensen has stopped glowering and rolling his eyes at him when none of Jared’s family are looking. He doesn’t know if Jensen has just gotten tired of being angry all the time or has just resigned himself to playing this all the way through, but either way he’s grateful. 

Even if it does make him dread the end of this holiday.

“Well,” Grandma Rae says, “he got his way, anyway. His foot was so swollen and bruised that he had to sit on the armchair in the family room with it covered in ice.” She laughs softly at the memory. “He complained the whole time, like it wasn’t his own damn fault.”

Jeff holds up his water glass. “To Grandpa Rich. If he were here right now, he’d be rolling his eyes and telling us all to shut the hell up.”

They all chuckle, raising their glasses. Jensen leans over to Jared, whispering in his ear. “Did your grandfather die?” 

Jared nods. “Five years ago,” he whispers back. “Heart attack.” 

Jensen nods and moves away. Jared stifles his urge to grab his chair and jerk it closer.  
At one point during dinner Jordan and Madison insists that Jensen, who they’d taken a shine too after he joined Jared and them playing video games, move down from the big people table to sit at the very short, plastic picnic table where the kids ate. He tries to tell them he’s too tall for that table, but they refuse to believe it. He’s finally forced to prove it to them--by sitting down with them. 

The sight of the 6’2” man stuffing his legs underneath that tiny table has everyone giggling into their mashed potatoes. When Jared joins him, ushering the kids away from their bench seat so he can sit across from Jensen, knees almost up to his ears, they break out into loud, almost hysterical laughter. 

“Oh, god. Someone get a camera,” Sherri calls out. 

“On it!” Replies Laura with a smirk, pulling out her iPhone. 

“This will be talked about for years,” Jared tells Jensen with a grin. Their legs are tangled in the small space beneath the table, his calf wrapped around Jensen’s, ankles brushing. Jensen laughs. “I’ll have to get copies of those pictures,” he says. 

“Sure,” Jared chuckles and tries to stand up. His knees bang on the underside of the table and he loses balance. 

“Careful!” Jensen lunges forward across the table and grabs Jared’s forearms, stopping him from falling. “Watch it, Sasquatch,” he jokes, steadying him. “The harder they fall, right? With your size you might just shake the whole house down around us.”

 

Jared isn’t really paying attention, mind too caught up on the feel of Jensen’s hands on his arms, on Jensen’s smiling at him teasingly, eyes crinkly with mirth. 

“Don’t we all know it,” his dad laughs, knocking Jared out of his Jensen induced daze. “Kid was always falling over his own feet in high school. So clumsy.”

Jared flushes and pulls his arms out from Jensen’s grasp. “Shut up, Dad. Save my high school horror stories for Easter.” The next time he tries he manages to stand up with little difficulty, and he surveys the room, hands on his hips. “Well. That made me work up an appetite. Who’s for dessert?”

Behind him Jensen gives a muttered “Always eating,” and Jared stifles a grin, that warmth in his chest he’d been feeling on and off all day flaring up again. 

As per tradition, when everyone is done eating, Jeff, Jared and Megan are on kitchen duty, gathering the dishes and stacking them in the sink to be washed. Jared takes his customary place as dish dryer--as the tallest of the group he can reach the high shelves--but Megan doesn‘t join him. Instead Jensen comes up and turns on the water, giving Jared a small smile “I don’t know where everything goes, but I can wash.”

They don’t talk much but just stand there, elbow to elbow, steadily working their way through the dishes Jeff and Megan keep bringing to them. Their shoulders bump together a few times, fingers brush as Jensen hands Jared a plate. Jared’s smile feels permanently etched on.

It’s okay sometimes, he thinks, to break from tradition.


	6. Part 6

Jared draws the short straw when it comes to who’s taking the trash out that evening, so while everyone else heads to the living room to crash, tummy’s full, on the couches, Jared ends up lugging the absolutely stuffed plastic bags outside and down the driveway. Jensen looked like he was going to help him, but Jeff grabbed a hold of him and dragged him away.

Jared goes searching for them when he gets back inside, finds them standing in the foyer by the front door. He’s about to walk up to them when he hears what they’re talking about, and he hesitates, lingering in the hallway, just out of sight. 

“I like you Misha. I mean, Jensen,” Jeff is saying to Jensen. “To tell you the truth, from Jared’s descriptions of you I thought you’d be some stoned, hippie weirdo. Which honestly, wouldn’t surprise me.”

Jared see Jensen stiffen. “What do you mean by that?”

“Well Jared doesn’t exactly have a history of the best judgment, and he’s gone from one failed relationship to another.” Jeff holds his palms up at what Jared assumes is one of Jensen’s more spectacular glowers. “Listen, I love my brother, I do. But let’s face it, the guy is a bit of a screw up, dropping out of school with only two and half semesters left to his degree, then packing everything up and moving away from his family just to work some dead end factory job making fish tanks.” 

“I think you need to give your brother a little more credit,” Jensen tells him, voice tight. “Having your heart ripped out like that can mess up anyone.” 

“So you’ve heard about Sandy then.” 

Jensen gives a short, tense nod. 

Jeff sighs, slumping against the banister of the stairs. “Well it didn’t happen to anyone, it happened to my little brother. And he hasn’t been right, been the same, since.” 

“Well he may not be the same,” Jensen snaps, bristling, “but he’s fine. He’s a good guy. He’s funny and smart and kinder than most people I’ve met in my life. And you know what? It might just be this kind of attitude that makes him feel like he has to constantly prove himself to you guys, when he shouldn’t have to prove a thing.”

Jeff stares at Jensen for a long moment. Then he smiles, shaking his head. “At least my brother found a loyal one this time.” He chuckles. “I think you’ll be good for him, and like I said, I like you, so you’ve got big brother’s approval.”

“Well thanks,” Jensen drawls sarcastically. “Not that I need it. Nor does Jared.” 

Jeff just shakes his head again, still smiling, and turns away, heading up the stairs. Jensen takes a deep, calming breath and starts back toward the living room, stopping short when he sees Jared standing in the hallway. His eyes flicker from where Jeff was to Jared’s face, grimacing a little when he sees the expression he’s wearing. “Jared…” he starts.

Jared holds up a hand, cutting him off. Without a word he walks past Jensen and out the front door to the porch. He collapses on the top step, staring blindly at the stars. He hears the soft click of the door being shut behind him and knows Jensen is behind him, feels the weight of his gaze. 

“A screw up, huh?” he mutters bitterly. “I mean, I always suspected that’s what they all thought about me, but it’s different hearing it.” He picks at a fray in his jeans. “Worse,” he mumbles. 

Behind him, Jensen takes a breath, preparing to say something. Maybe something sarcastic and caustic about how _of course_ he’s a screw up, after all he’s a kidnapper, or maybe something nice, meant to console him. He doesn’t think he can handle either right now. 

“Thanks,” he says quickly, before the other man can speak. “For what you said in there. I mean, I know it was just for show--part of the whole fake boyfriend thing--but thank you.” He laughs humorlessly. “I would look really pathetic if my own boyfriend didn’t stick up for me.” 

There’s a short moment of silence and then: 

“It wasn’t.” 

Jared looks over his shoulder, surprised. “What?”

“For show,” Jensen clarifies, voice firm. “What I said back there wasn’t for show.”

Jared snorts derisively, turning back around. “Yeah, I’m sure you think the man who kidnapped you is _great_ guy.”

Jensen huffs out a breath and walks to the edge of the porch, sitting down next to Jared on the top step. “You’re not a bad guy,” he tells him. “And I could tell right away that you were at least less crazy than Chad.”

Jared laughs a little. “It’s hard not to be.” 

“True.” Jensen’s lips quirk into a smile. “But Jared,” he continues seriously, “it’s also true what I said back there. You don’t need their approval. Mostly because you already have it.” When Jared looks skeptical, Jensen gives a little frustrated sound in his throat. “You have no idea how lucky you are do you?” He asks, peering intently at Jared’s face in the dark. “No idea what I would _give_ to have a family like yours. They love you Jared, and they accept you for everything you are. There hasn’t been an awkward glance or snide remark--with the exception of your cousin Rodger--”

“Asshole,” Jared mutters absently.

Jensen gives a little smile of agreement. “--the whole time I’ve been here. They are absolutely supporting of you, no matter what. And all of Megan and Ben’s suspicious questions and even what happened with Jeff back there--it’s all because they care about you, because they want to protect you. You’re not a disappointment to your family, Jared. Take it from someone who knows.”  
Jared doesn’t know what to say to all that, what to _think_ , so he latches on to the last part. “Someone who knows?” he repeats curiously.

Jensen lets out a slow breath and looks away, leaning his elbows on his knees and staring out at the sky, much like Jared’s pose at the beginning of this conversation. He’s quiet for so long that Jared starts wishing he never asked the question at all. He doesn’t really have the right, after all, to pry into Jensen’s life. He’s just about to suggest they head back inside when Jensen finally speaks.

“My parents disowned me.” 

Jared sucks in a breath, shocked. 

“I mean,” Jensen continues without looking at him. “Not officially. That would look bad.” He gives a bitter chuckle. “And god knows it’s all about appearances for them. I guess they got tired of having a gay activist son who used his job at Daddy’s law firm to fight his battles.”

Jensen is quiet for a moment, staring pensively across the dark street. “At first they just pressured me to stick to the low profile cases, minor law suits and all that, things that wouldn’t get me any notice from the press. But I was _good._ ” Jensen says suddenly, forcefully. “I don’t know if it was growing up with it or hell,” he laughs wryly, “just the old man’s genes, but I was good. Graduated top of my class at law school. And here I was being shoved in the back, buried right along with those cases they didn’t really want to take. You know,” he slants Jared a sarcastic look. “The embarrassing ones they don’t want to be associated with, or the ones that would bring up too much political controversy. So I took them, and I made people notice them.”

He turns to look at Jared, leans forward with a little smile. “I had this case, it was this transgender who was suing an all woman’s gym because they wouldn’t give her a membership. Oh, she was fierce this woman, she was not going to be shuffled off to the side with some meaningless platitudes, and I liked that about her.” He laughs, a real one this time. 

“When we won the case--and the story, of course, made it to the papers--it was the last straw for my dad. He told me if I left the firm quietly, and didn’t contact them anymore, I’d get to keep my trust fund. And god help me but I did. I left quietly.” 

Jensen turns back to the empty street, cradling his head in his palms and staring bleakly at the wooden steps. “All that fighting, and all those speeches I gave about not letting people push us to the side as if we didn’t exist, and when it came down to it I let them do the same thing to me. It just…hurt too much.” Jensen grits out, voice hoarse. “I didn’t want to drag it out, so I took my trust fund--my fucking hush money--and left.” 

Jensen’s shoulders are hunched, voice filled with self loathing. Jared lifts one hand uncertainly, wanting to grasp Jensen’s shoulder or rub his back or pull him into a hug, something, but he’s not sure if any of that would be welcome so he hesitates, pulls his hand back. 

“I hate it,” Jensen says harshly, voice raw. “I hate that I let them do that to me. I should have fought them, should have splashed the story all over the fucking newspapers: ‘Named Partner at Big Time Law Firm Fires Son for Being Gay‘.” Jensen snorts, shaking his head. “But I didn’t. And sometimes I hate myself for not fighting so _fucking_ much that I can’t stand it.”

At that, Jared can’t help himself. Welcome or not, Jared scoots closer on the step, reaching one hand out to grip firmly on Jensen’s shoulder before smoothing his palm across his back. Jensen takes a shaky breath at the touch. “You shouldn’t,” Jared tells him. “No one can fight all the time, and I can’t imagine anyone blaming you for not wanting to go through the pain that would come with fighting your family on that.” 

“I blame me,” Jensen says shortly. Jared just keeps rubbing his hand up and down Jensen’s back, light and soothing. Jensen sighs heavily and leans into the touch, leaning his head back so his face is to the sky, eyes closed. The dim light from the lamp across the street highlights his profile, catching on the sharp angle of his cheekbone, the slope of his nose, the dip below his puffy bottom lip, lets Jared see how his whole expression is tight with tension. He can see the muscles in Jensen’s jaw work, like he’s clenching and unclenching it, see his brows furrowed against tightly scrunched eyes. 

“I have a nephew.” Jensen suddenly says, opening his eyes to catch Jared’s on him. “Peyton. He’s six. I haven’t seen him since he was two. My sister Mac still calls me every now and then, but Josh… well lets just say he didn’t exactly disagree with our father, and he doesn’t think his faggot brother would be a good influence on his son.”

“Jesus, Jen.” Jared breathes out, and Jensen smiles sadly. 

He shrugs. “I stopped sending Christmas gifts after the first two years.” 

They don’t say anything for a while. Jared has stopped rubbing Jensen’s back, instead hooking his hand around Jensen’s left shoulder so that his arm is wrapped loosely around him, almost pulling Jensen into his side. They sit like that for a while, quiet on the steps of the porch, listening to the soft sounds of the night and each other’s breathing. 

A thought suddenly hits Jared. “You said your dad has his own law firm?” 

Jensen laughs softly against him, peering over his shoulder to smile at Jared, mischievous eyes glittering in the dim light. “You know, you never asked me what my last name is.”

Jared swallows. “What is it?”

“Ackles.”

His jaw drops. “You mean Ackles as in _Ackles, Kripke and Morgan?_ ” he practically squeaks, eyes wide.

Jensen smirks at him. “Mmm-hmm. Yep.”

“Oh god,” Jared moans, burying his face in his hands. “I kidnapped the son of the owner of a multi-million dollar law firm. I’m going to rot in jail. For _life._ ”

Jensen lets out a loud laugh, shaking against Jared’s shoulder. “Well,” he says, still laughing, “you are a sorry excuse for a kidnapper. I mean, I know your whole name, I know where you live, hell, I know where your _family_ lives. What did you think you were going to do after all this was done, slip me an amnesia pill?”

“I don’t know,” Jared moans into his hands. “I just didn’t think about it, I guess. This whole thing is Chad’s fault anyway. Never listening to him again. Ever,” he says into his palms, voice muffled. 

Jensen’s still laughing at him. “Don’t worry, Jared. You’re not going to jail.”

Jared lifts his head, looking at Jensen in surprise. “I’m not?”

“No.” He smirks again. “I mean, I’d feel kind of horrible sending a guy to jail who’s so pathetic he had to kidnap someone to come to Christmas dinner with him.” It’s not the first time he’s said something along those lines, but this time it’s teasing. 

“Hey!” Jared protests. He knocks Jensen’s shoulder with his, grinning. “Like you had anything better to do anyway.”

Jensen raises his eyebrows. “Better? Certainly. But,” his smile grows soft, “maybe not as fun.”  
“Did you have fun?” Jared asks seriously. He’d thought Jensen was having a good time today, but he couldn’t be sure. He knows for a fact that Jensen is a fantastic actor. 

“Yeah, Jay, I did.” Jensen replies. His voice gets wistful. “Your family is amazing. And they love you. So I don’t think you need to stress out so much about impressing them.”

Jared smiles a little, looking at Jensen. “You called me Jay.” 

Jensen ducks his head a little. “Yeah, well, you called me Jen earlier. Besides, it’s your nickname, isn’t it? Everyone in your family says it.” 

“Yeah. But I thought you’d hate me too much to use it.”

Jensen raises his head, looks at Jared, unreadable expression on his face. “I don’t hate you, Jared.” 

Jared can’t help the goofy smile as he asks softly, “Yeah?”

“Yeah.”

They’re still shoulder to shoulder, pressed so close that Jared can feel every movement Jensen makes, each breath causing him to move just slightly against Jared. Their faces are less than a foot apart and Jensen doesn’t look down or turn his head, and Jared thinks that maybe, just maybe, if he were to lean forward, and press his lips against Jensen’s, that Jensen wouldn’t mind. He might even kiss back. 

“Good,” he breathes and leans forward. 

The front door suddenly opens and Jared jerks back, blinking at the sudden flood of light.   
“Hey guys, we’re starting this year’s annual showing of _It’s a Wonderful Life_. You better get in here if you want the good seats.”

Jared thinks he could strangle his sister. Really, really strangle her.

“Thanks,” he forces out between clenched teeth. “We’ll be there in a minute.” Megan shrugs and closes the door. 

It seems darker now, night vision ruined by the sudden burst of light from the house, and Jared can’t tell the expression Jensen’s wearing, whether he knows what Jared was about to do, whether he is disappointed that Megan interrupted. 

Jensen shifts away. “Well, I guess we better get inside.”

Jared sighs. “Yeah, guess so.” 

They stand up, moving awkwardly around each other in the small space of the steps. Jensen gives a little chuckle when they bang their knees together and shakes his head as he moves past him to the door. 

“Hey.” Jared snags his wrist and Jensen stops, looking back curiously. “I know I’ve said this before, but thank you. This Christmas would have sucked without you here. And I know I didn’t give you much of a choice, but thanks.”

Jensen studies him, expression indiscernible in the dim light. “You’re welcome,” he says quietly and Jared thinks that this time, he might actually mean it.

Shortly after George Bailey decides the world is better with him in it and the angel Clarence earns his wings, the family heads off to bed. The kids are already asleep, having passed out from too much food and too much excitement around the time George started trying to lasso the moon, and Jeff and Jared carry them upstairs, Jared’s smile soft as he tucks the tiny sleeping form of Maddie against his chest.

Jensen follows them up, holds the door to Jeff’s room open so that they can lay the kids down on the small mattress set up for them on the floor. Jared’s careful as he puts her down, brushing the hair away from her face and pulling the covers up to her shoulders. Despite the conversation with Jeff that he’d over heard he smiles warmly at his brother, wishing him and Laura Merry Christmas as he leaves the room. 

They’re quiet as they get ready for bed. Jensen changes in the bathroom, like usual, but it feels ridiculous at this point, unnecessary. He stares at his own reflection as he brushes his teeth, but doesn’t analyze it, doesn’t try to force a scowl on his face, or try to talk himself out of anything. He just brushes his teeth, spits and packs up his toothbrush, hitting the light on his way out. 

Jared’s already in bed when Jensen gets back to the room, near the wall. He stares at Jensen, opening his mouth like he wants to say something, but then just shakes his head, reaching for the light. Jensen crawls into bed, pulls the blankets over himself. 

Jared doesn’t reach for the handcuffs.

That night Jensen can’t sleep. Neither one of them are lying on their back or their stomach, but instead on their sides, back to back. He can almost feel the heat coming from Jared on his back, feels hyper aware of just how little space there is separating them in the dark room. He focuses on Jared’s breathing, unconsciously trying to match his own with them. 

Beside him, Jared suddenly rolls over and Jensen tenses. He can feel Jared looking at him in the dark, and he’s caught between the urge to stay still, keep pretending thats he’s asleep or just turning over, and looking right back. 

There’s just a few inches separating them now, and Jensen can feel the air shift as Jared sits up on his elbow, the movement accompanied by the soft _shush_ of the blanket falling as he rests his hand softly, hesitantly, on Jensen’s shoulder. 

Jensen sucks in a shaky breath.

Jared’s thumb moves slowly up and down, up and down along his shoulder blade before he trails his palm down Jensen’s arm and to his side, resting it on his hip.

Jensen doesn’t move away.

“Jen?” Jared whispers hoarsely. His breath puffs along the back of Jensen’s neck. 

Slowly, he rolls onto his back, looking up at Jared‘s shadowed form. He can barely see Jared in the dark room, the weak light from the window just enough to make the outline of his face visible in the dark. Still, he could guess at what his expression would tell, knows the question spoken with just his name. 

He reaches up, wraps his hand along the back of Jared’s neck and pulls his face down to his. 

The kiss is soft, just a brush of lips and warm air puffed against skin in the dark. It’s Jensen who deepens it, tightening his fingers in Jared’s hair and opening his mouth against Jared’s, tongue flickering out against his bottom lip. Jared sucks in a small breath, almost a gasp, before he opens his own in response. 

Jared’s hand moves from his hip, sliding up Jensen’s side to curl around his arm, but the touch is tentative, hesitant almost, like he’s afraid Jensen might change his mind, and his body looms, steady and strong, above Jensen’s, careful not to touch. Jensen pulls away, blinking up at Jared’s face in the dark. He can feel the heat from Jared’s body, just inches from his own, the humidity of their shared breaths on his lips. 

“Jared,” he whispers. He slides his hands down Jared’s back to rest on his hips, slipping his fingers underneath the hem of his t-shirt and stroking the warm skin there. The muscles of his stomach flinch slightly at the touch and he can feel Jared shudder above him. “It’s alright.” With that he gives a small tug, pulling Jared’s body down to fit against his. 

Jared gasps as they come into contact and Jensen leans up, muffling the sound against his lips. He slips his hands beneath Jared’s shirt as they kiss, softly like before at first, then increasingly more passionate, running his palms up and down smooth, bed-warmed skin as the kiss dissolves from gentle brushes and nips to the hot, slick slide of tongues. 

Jared grips Jensen’s arms, bunching the fabric of his t-shirt in his fist as his hips move rhythmically against Jensen’s. Jensen lifts one leg to wrap around Jared’s thigh and rocks upward and Jared breaks away from the kiss with a groan, burying his face in Jensen’s neck with a pained mutter of “ _Jen._ ”

He can feel Jared hot and hard against his hip and he tightens leg around Jared’s, canting upward firmly again. Jared groans into Jensen’s neck and mirrors the slight move, pressing down with his hips and biting at the juncture between his neck and shoulder. Jensen hisses at the shock of pleasure and tilts his head back, giving Jared more access to his neck. “ _Yes,_ ” he whispers as Jared does it again, slipping his hands from Jensen’s arms to under his back, pressing against his shoulder blades. Jared soothes his thigh against Jensen’s erection, nipping at the skin below his ear at the same time and Jensen bucks his hips, gasping.

He fists the material of Jared’s shirt. “Off,” he demands, tugging frantically at the hem. Jared seems reluctant to move away from him, to lose contact, even momentarily, so Jensen runs his fingers lightly up and down Jared’s sides before smoothing over his chest. 

Jared still hesitates, and even in the dark Jensen can see how his brow is furrowed, expression twisted in a moment of indecision. He knows that’s his fault: he’s made clear time and time again his anger and resentment toward Jared over the whole kidnapping thing, certainly went out of his way to make Jared feel as uncomfortable and guilty as he possibly could, so he doesn’t blame Jared his hesitance. 

He’s not sure when it happened, maybe gradually, maybe abruptly (he’s reminded of the moment under the mistletoe, that split second of passion, of want of something real, something tangible) but that anger and resentment has changed now, and he’ll do all he can to show that to Jared, even if it means he as to take Jared by the hand and show him what he wants. 

Jensen’s fingers are deft, helping Jared to lift the cotton material from his long torso. While the shirt is pulled over Jared’s head, Jensen admires the tapered length of chest above him. He touches in fascination the fine form, caressing up and down, wide span of hands flying over the muscles and skimming pert nipples. He isn’t prepared for the full brunt of weight again as Jared’s half-naked frame lands on him and he puffs out a strangled breath.

“Sorry,” Jared chuckles breathlessly. Jensen just shakes his head and arcs back against the pillow as his hands move down to take off his own t-shirt. “Jesus, Jen,” Jared whispers, breathless now for an entirely different reason as he stares down at him, fingertips trailing lightly over the skin on his ribs. The touch tickles, causing Jensen to squirm a little and a small smile flits across Jared’s face before it fades into a serious, distant expression. “I didn’t think…” he says softly, trailing off. 

“What?” Jared shakes his head, not meeting his eyes, hands still moving gently up and down Jensen’s sides. Jensen stops them, curling his fingers underneath the palms and pressing them against the skin of his stomach, trapped and still. “What is it?”

“It’s nothing. I just…” He still doesn’t look up at Jensen, gaze fixed instead on where Jensen’s hands hold his. He lifts one forefinger, lightly stroking across the sensitive skin on Jensen’s wrist. Finally, he huffs out a breath. “I didn’t think this would happen, you know? Us. Like this.” His eyes look briefly up at Jensen just to flick back down again. “I mean, I hoped. I couldn’t help but hope, even if that was ridiculous. I mean,” he continued to babble, words coming out fast and hushed, “I _kidnapped_ you, after all. I didn’t think you’d forgive me, let alone--” 

Jensen reaches up to grip the sides of Jared’s face, cutting him off. He almost forcibly pulls him down and Jared flails a bit before catching himself, landing with his forearms on either side of Jensen’s head, bracketing him in. Jensen presses his cheek against the side of Jared’s face, nuzzling into the soft hair by his ear. “I know,” he murmurs. “I didn’t think this would happen either.” His fingers delve into Jared’s shaggy hair, rubbing back and forth over his scalp, grinning when he feels Jared give a small shudder. He presses that grin into the skin between his ear and jaw. “Can’t say I’m unhappy it did though.” 

Jared finally relaxes against him, hands going back to their exploration, skimming over Jensen’s shoulders and collarbone before sliding down his sides again. He feels Jared’s hands catching on his sleep pants, tugging on the loose elastic band as he compulsively makes a fist in the material. Jensen places a kiss to the underside of Jared’s jaw and moves to slide down Jared’s own pants. As soon as they’re thrown over the side of the mattress with their pile of t-shirts, Jensen’s guiding Jared’s hands back to his hips. 

He immediately throws off Jensen’s hands and takes over undressing him, slinking down Jensen’s body and pressing hot, wet kisses across his chest and onto his stomach. He lingers just below Jensen’s navel, the hot breath ghosting over the skin there enough to make Jensen tremble. Jared tugs again at the elastic of his pants and Jensen lifts his hips to help him slide them off, closing his eyes when that just causes him to press up closer against Jared’s body. 

Once he’s rid Jensen of the pants Jared slides back up, fitting himself back between Jensen’s spread thighs. He‘s panting slightly, and Jensen’s not much better, breath exhaling in a groan at the slide of skin on skin as Jared presses against him, nothing but the material of their boxers separating them. There’s a single drop of sweat slipping down the hairline of Jared’s neck and Jensen reaches up, spreading the droplet over the bare skin before smoothing down Jared’s back to slip beneath the elastic waist of the boxers and palm the curve of his ass. 

He urges Jared to thrust against him, wants to feel the power behind it, the clench and release of muscles. He can feel the heat of Jared’s cock through his boxers, and revels in the thrill of lust that runs through him as Jared thrusts into the groove of his hip, the knowledge that it’s only a scrap of cloth keeping Jensen from really feeling it against him. Jensen arcs back with a small cry and Jared uses the opportunity to put his lips on his neck again, nipping lightly at the tendons before moving to suck at the pulse point beneath his jaw. 

He’s got one hand holding Jensen down, and the other slips between their bodies, the back of his knuckles brushing along the line of his chest. He cups Jensen through his boxers and Jensen shudders as he rubs a thumb along the wet spot, digging his nails into Jared’s ass as Jared presses firmly just below the head. He lets go suddenly, but only to dip his hand beneath the elastic of his shorts.

Jensen hisses at the feel of a dry palm scraping against the leaking tip of his cock, eyes slitting when Jared curls his fingers along the length, pulling in a torturously slow rhythm. He opens his mouth to tell Jared to go faster, harder, he just needs _more_ , damn it, but Jared chooses that moment to lean down and catch his lips in a kiss. It’s not soft anymore, but hard and impatient, breaths stolen and shared in desperate gasps and harsh pants between the hot slick of tongues and the near-clanging of teeth. Jensen captures Jared’s tongue with his own, sucking on it, pulling a needy groan from Jared, but still he keeps the pace of his hand on Jensen steady and slow, driving him mad. 

Impatient, Jensen yanks at Jared’s underwear, pulling them down to bunch at mid thigh. He knocks Jared’s hand away and does the same to himself, grasping Jared’s hips to pull him tightly against him. Jensen lets out a sigh of relief at the skin contact, and starts guide Jared’s hips in a steady roll. Jared slides one thigh between Jensen’s legs and braces himself with his knee to better the angle and Jensen can’t help the moan he lets out. 

“Shh…” Jared whispers, lips barely brushing against Jensen’s as they curl into a smile. “You gotta be quiet. Kids in the next room, remember?” He takes over the pace, taking Jensen’s hands away from his hips to pull them above his head, long fingers circling his wrists and pressing them down into the pillow.

Jensen smirks. “Gonna get those cuffs out now?” he teases, flexing his wrists against Jared’s grip. 

Jared shakes his head. “No,” he says hoarsely, rocking his hips forward. He releases Jensen’s wrists only to slide his hands up, threading their fingers together. “Like it just--” he grunts as Jensen arches against him. “Just like this,” he finishes with a hiss, eyes screwing shut. 

Their pace picks up, Jensen wrapping one leg around Jared’s thigh to rut up into the groove of his hip, slick with sweat and pre-come, and Jared buries his face in the dip of Jensen’s shoulder, panting and shuddering as they move. At one point Jensen deliberately brushes his thigh against the sensitive skin behind Jared’s balls and Jared let’s out a sharp cry, sinking his teeth into the muscle of Jensen’s shoulder as if to stifle it. 

Oh yeah, Jensen thinks distantly, breathing in the smell of shampoo from Jared’s hair and licking away the salt on his lips from the sweat on Jared’s hair line, kids in the next room. He does it again anyway. Jared’s hips jerk, losing rhythm, and Jensen can tell that he’s close. He breaks the grip Jared has on one wrist to trail his hand down Jared’s back, soothing. 

“Come on,” Jensen whispers into Jared’s hair. He gives the hand he’s holding a gentle squeeze. “Let go.”

Jared does, sucking in a sharp breath as his hips stutter against Jensen’s, muscles stiffening as he suddenly goes still, whole body quivering with tension as he comes, like a rubber band stretched almost to the point of snapping, before the tension is released, muscles relaxing with a soft groan. 

Close to coming himself, Jensen pants, thrusting up sharply. He groans deeply, tightening the leg around Jared’s--whose full weight is now on him--to try and get a better angle, and let’s out a frustrated noise in the back of his throat when he doesn’t manage it. 

Jared rouses, pulling up and slipping a hand between them to wrap around Jensen again. He grips him firmly, pulling roughly at a fast pace, thumb skimming over the head of his cock every now and then. Jensen lets out a gasp and rocks into his fist, wrapping one arm around Jared’s waist while the other comes up to hold onto his biceps, bracing himself. 

Jared bends down, brushes his nose against the shell of Jensen’s ear. “Jen,” he murmurs lowly, breath hot and damp against Jensen’s neck as he gives a particular twist of his wrist. 

That’s it. Jensen comes, arching his body up away from the bed and into the line of Jared’s body, head tilting back, mouth open as he sucks in a desperate breath. 

He slumps back down, panting, and Jared’s hands gentle, then let go. Jensen feels heavy and lax, body tingling from the orgasm and he just lies there and breathes, trailing his fingers lightly back and forth over Jared’s lower back. Jared shifts to the side a little, but doesn’t move away, and Jensen smiles a little at the feel of lips brushing across his right eyebrow. 

He’s close to drifting off when Jared sits up with a reluctant groan. “Come on,” he says quietly, tugging at Jensen’s arm.

“Huh?” Jensen blinks blearily up at him. 

“We gotta get cleaned up. There’s no way I’m risking one of my family members coming in tomorrow morning and seeing us like this.” Scowling a little, Jensen allows Jared to pull him up out of bed and groggily follows him out of the room and down the hall to the bathroom. 

It’s awkward suddenly, away from the dark room and into the harsh fluorescent light coming from the lamp mounted above the bathroom mirror. They’re silent as they clean up, eye contact traded in for side long, surreptitious glances when they think the other isn’t looking. They have to be quiet in order not to wake up Jared’s family, but Jensen doesn’t know what to say anyway. This is unlike any kind of hookup he’d ever experienced before, and he isn’t even sure if it was supposed to be more than that. He wants it to be, sure, but does Jared? And how does he even ask? He can’t exactly be all, _So, do you always kidnap guys you want to sleep with and should I expect the same thing next time?_ now can he? 

Not that he really thinks that Jared does this all the time. Of course he doesn’t. It’s just, he hasn’t had anything more than a one night stand in a long time--and even those have been few and far between these last few years--and he’s at a complete loss for what to do next. He imagines Jared hasn’t been too successful in the love department either, or else Jensen wouldn’t be here to begin with, and the thought doesn’t give much comfort. 

When they finish Jared gives him a small, awkward smile before flipping off the lights, and Jensen follows him wordlessly back to the bedroom. They crawl back into bed--Jared taking the side by the wall again--pulling up the covers and lying side by side on their backs, not touching. They don’t talk. Jensen can almost feel the uncertainty between them, the air filled with tension, much like the first night they lay in bed. 

Worse than that, Jensen thinks glumly. 

“Hey, Jensen,” Jared says hesitantly, breaking the silence. “Can I ask you a question?” He doesn’t turn his head from where it rests on the pillow, staring up at the ceiling. Jensen mirrors his position, eyes locked on the patterns the stucco plaster makes. 

He swallows nervously. “Sure.” 

“You said you had a trust fund, right? So why go through with this whole thing? Why not just cut your losses, say screw the charity money and then write out a check, save yourself the trouble?” 

Jensen brows furrow. _That’s_ Jared’s question? Now of all times? 

“I don’t know,” he answers. “I guess it’s just the principal of the thing, you know? These people gave their money to help out the community center and that’s what it should go to. It wouldn’t be the same if I just paid for it. Besides,” he shrugs, “I was planning on matching whatever I raised anyway.” 

Jared gives a small chuckle, turning on his side to face Jensen. Jensen frowns a little at the sound, but does the same. Even in the dim light he can see that Jared’s smiling as he stares across the bed at him. 

“What?” 

Jared gives a little shake of his head, still smiling. “Nothing. It’s just… you seem far too good to be a lawyer.” 

Jensen huffs. “I’ll have you know I was a very good lawyer,” he says, mock seriously. “People feared me, and desperately wanted me on their case at the same time.”

Jared chuckles again. “I’m sure they did.” 

They’re quiet again, staring at each other, not even a foot between them. In the corner of his eye Jensen can see Jared fiddling with a loose thread on the comforter. 

“Jen?” Jared breaks the silence again. 

“Yeah?”

Jared takes in a shuddery breath. “When we get back to Dallas, do you--I mean, if you want to--” he stutters nervously, fingers twisting the thread tightly around his knuckles.

Jensen quickly scoots forward and kisses him, almost light headed with relief. “Yes,” he breathes against Jared’s mouth. “I want to.” 

He feels Jared’s smile against his lips. “Good,” he whispers. He releases his grip on the blanket thread and uses his hand to cup the back of Jensen’s neck, bringing him closer and stroking his thumb along the soft skin below his ear as he deepens the kiss.

Jensen pulls away after a few moments and presses his forehead to Jared’s. “We have to go sleep,” he tells him with a smile. “I’ve spent three days with your family and I already know them to be horrible early risers. Including you,” he teases, pressing another short kiss to his lips. 

Jared smiles softly at him. “Alright,” he replies, moving in for another kiss.

Jensen allows it, opening his mouth up to the tease of Jared’s tongue, but pulling away again after a few seconds. “Seriously. We _have_ to sleep.” 

Jared gives a fake huff. “Fine,” he pouts. 

He rolls his eyes at him, giving him one last peck before turning over onto his other side, back facing Jared. Jared hovers uncertainly behind him, as if not sure what to do, so Jensen reaches behind him and snags his wrist--the same one he’d been cuffed to just last night--and pulls Jared in tightly against his back, tucking the hand he held to his chest. Jared settles in close, bringing his knees up to brush against Jensen’s, slipping one calf in between his, and Jensen can feel the steady cadence of his breath against his neck. 

He falls asleep easily.


	7. Part 7

Jensen wakes up to the feeling of lips lightly brushing the back of his neck, back and forth, back and forth. He smiles and stretches his neck out a little more, letting Jared plant teasing little kisses up the side of his neck and into his ear. 

“Hmm…” he hums in contentment. 

“Morning,” Jared mumbles. Jensen can feel his smile against his neck as he wraps an arm around his waist, tucking him closer into his body. 

“Hmm…” Jensen says again, grabbing a hold of his wrist and pushing his hand lower. “It is.”

Jared chuckles and sits up, rolling Jensen onto his back. “As much as I’d love to go along with that idea,” he smiles down at him, “I have to get up.” 

Jensen frowns at him. “Why? It’s still early,” he mumbles, glancing at the clock on the bedside table. “Ugh. Way early. Stay in bed.” He hooks his wrists behind Jared’s neck, dragging him down for a kiss, morning breath and all. 

“Mm,” Jared mumbles into the kiss. He pulls back an inch. “I’d love to.” He says pressing a quick kiss to Jensen’s lips. “But,” and another, “I have to go meet Meryl and get my mama’s present.” He finishes the thought with a longer kiss. 

Jensen tries to deepen it, pulling Jared more on top of him but Jared pulls back, laughing. “Seriously, Jen,” he chuckles, and Jensen warms at sound of the nickname. “I really have to go. I’m already late.” 

Jensen huffs, releasing Jared and slumping back on the pillow. “Fine. Knew you were going to wake up too early. Just give me a few minutes and I’ll be ready to go.” 

“Nah,” Jared shakes his head. “You stay in bed. There’s not even coffee yet, and I’ve seen how much you need it to function. I‘ll be back in less than hour.” His smile is fond when he looks down at him, and Jensen has the urge to kiss him again. 

So he does.

They lie like that for a while, making out. Jensen hooks a leg around Jared’s thigh and pulls him tight against him, rolling his hips up. Jared groans, breaking the kiss. “You are making it seriously hard to leave right now.” 

“So don’t leave.” Jared smirks at him.

Jared glances at the clock. “Ten minutes,” he concedes, and leans down to kiss the smirk off Jensen’s lips. 

When Jared does leave--fifteen minutes later--Jensen doesn’t go back to sleep. He lies in Jared’s childhood bed and stares at the ceiling, stupid smile on his face. 

Jared left without him. 

Meaning he didn’t feel the need to watch Jensen’s every move, the urge to be suspicious whenever he spends a little too long in the bathroom. Like Jensen isn’t some guy he picked up--almost literally--off the street and forced to pretend to be his boyfriend, like it was real. 

It’s a good feeling. Simple. 

A thought hits Jensen that has him rolling out of bed and walking out to the hall. He keeps his footsteps soft as he walks to phone, knowing the rest of the house is asleep. He quickly dials Chris’s number, leaning against the wall as it rings. 

Chris doesn’t pick up. 

“Come on, man,” Jensen mutters. “What’s up?” Chris always answers. No matter where the call is coming from, he always answers. It’s been a joke between them for years, because Chris always end up speaking to the telemarketers and the survey people, but it’s also one of the things Jensen depends on. 

With a sigh Jensen puts down the phone. He’ll just have to call back later to tell him to nix the cops. It’s not like he and Jared are leaving for Dallas just this second. 

Hearing a noise from the kitchen--followed by a delicious smell--Jensen makes his way downstairs. Jerry is in the kitchen, pouring a cup of coffee. “You’re up early,” he comments when he sees Jensen. 

Jensen shrugs. “It’s the smell of coffee. Can’t resist it. It trumps even sleep.”

Jerry chuckles and hands him the mug. Jensen blows on it before taking a sip, practically humming in pleasure. Hot, fresh and strong, just like he likes it. 

Jerry watches him with an amused smile. “Sherri mentioned you liked my coffee the other morning.” 

Jensen raises his eyebrows in surprise. “That was your coffee? I thought Sherri made it.”

“No. And you don’t want to taste Sherri’s coffee.” The older man grimaces. “It’s practically water it’s so weak.”

Jensen makes a face. 

“Exactly,” Jerry chuckles. He pours another mug for himself and leans against the island opposite Jensen as he sips at it. 

Jensen suddenly feels a little nervous. In the few days he’s been here, he hasn’t talked much with Jerry. He seems like a man of few words, but Jensen isn’t sure if that’s how he normally is or if he’s just uncomfortable with his gay son’s boyfriend. Most of the Padaleckis Jensen has met are certainly on the more talkative side. Jared especially. Yesterday the idea that Jared’s father wasn’t okay with them wouldn’t have bothered him--or at least not that much--but since last night, well. 

Things change.

“What time are you two heading back to Dallas?” Jerry asks, and Jensen’s heart drops.

That quick to get rid of them, huh? 

“I’m not sure. Around noon I think.” 

Jerry nods. “Long drive.” 

“’Bout four hours, yeah.” 

Jerry nods again, studying him over the rim of his coffee. Jensen fidgets on the stool. “Well,” Jerry finally says. “I hope you had a good Christmas here, son.” 

Jensen gives him a smile. “Yes, sir,” he says in an automatic response to the word “son.” 

“None of that ‘sir’ crap, now.” Jerry says with a falsely stern voice.

“Right. Jerry.” 

Jerry shakes his head, smiling, and straightens away from the island. “I hope we’ll be seeing you around, Jensen.” He walks around the island, clapping a warm hand on Jensen’s shoulder.

“I… think you will, Jerry.” Jensen replies, looking up at the older man with a tentative smile.  
“Good.” Jerry squeezes his shoulder once, before walking out of the kitchen.

Jensen stays in the kitchen and drinks his coffee, a small smile on his face.

It’s barely been an hour since Jared left, but when he gets back--silver paper wrapped box in hand--the rest of the house is up. Jensen is chatting in the living room with Laura, who he seems to get along best with. Not surprising, really, since she’s one of the two other people who knows what it’s like to be an outsider of the family who isn’t, like Ben, working for his sister in order to question and torture him.

His mama is in the kitchen pouring cereal for Jordan and Madison, but she quickly finishes when he pokes his head in and says, “I got your present” with a big grin on his face. Jared’s present has become another tradition over the past couple years and they all gather around the armchair in the living room, waiting for her to sit down. He places the box carefully in her lap when she does. 

“I wonder what it could be,” she says with a teasing smile. 

Jared grins back at her. “Guess you’ll just have to find out.” 

“You know, if you wanted to give me a real present, you could give me the name of who makes these.”

Jared shakes his head. “Nope,” he says happily. “Now open.”

With a very put upon sigh, she does, carefully slicing the tape with her fingernail and easing the paper back, so as not to rip it. 

Jared rolls his eyes. “You don’t have to save the wrapping paper, you know.”

“Hush,” she says, carefully unfolding the paper. He does, excitedly watching as she opens the box and pulls out the paper, peering it inside. “Oh,” she breathes. 

She pulls the gift out of the box and holds it up in the light. It’s a tree this year, based on one he saw while driving a few weeks ago. The branches are twisted and free of leaves, the trunk split down the middle from a lightening strike. Most of the tree is made of clear glass, but it’s tinted dark where it was supposed to have been struck, the dark color bleeding into the rest of the tree. The glass piece is mounted onto a small round mirror, but it too is covered in glass, thick and bumpy around one side of the tree, like dirt, with the roots coming out of it, and thin on the other side and wavy like ripples on water. 

“That,” says Megan, “is awesome.” 

The others make sounds of agreement and Jared beams.

“You have to tell me who makes these, Jared,” his mom implores. 

“Nope,” Jared says, catching Jensen’s eye and grinning. “It’s a secret.”

It’s while the glass tree is being carefully passed around that Jared’s phone rings. He excuses himself and steps into the hall, flipping his phone open. “Hello?”

“Jared, man, I gotta tell you something.”

He frowns at Chad’s voice. “Chad? What’s wrong?”

“Look, you can’t get mad, I really didn’t mean to.” 

Shit. Jared knows that tone, and those words. This isn’t the first time Chad has said the exact same thing to him. “Chad, what the hell did you do?” 

“I was drunk man, and didn’t know what I was doing, and the people I was with were just as bad.”  
“Chad,” Jared growls. “What. Did. You. Do.” 

“I lost the charity money.”

Jared sucks in a breath, feeling like he was punched.

Oh. Oh, crap. Oh, fuck. 

“ _What do you mean you lost it?_ ” Jared hisses.

“I lost it gambling.” 

“Chad!” Jared barks, then immediately quiets, peering into the living room to see if anyone took notice, breathing a sigh of relief when no one is looking his way. “Why the hell would you gamble with _charity_ money? Is there something _wrong_ with you?”

“I didn’t gamble with it,” Chad explains. “I was at this poker game and I was drunk. I ended up betting more than I actually had. And these guys, well, they weren’t nice guys. When I lost and they realized I didn’t have the money, they weren’t happy. They pretty much beat the shit out of me until one my friends told them about the envelope I had in the hotel room, and they made them go get it. They took it, checks and all, not that I know how they’re going to cash it, but man, these guys are criminals, they’ll probably find a way and shit, man, they were tough, I mean I gave a pretty good fight when they dragged me outside but--”

“Chad, shut up,” Jared snaps. He closes his eyes and pinches the bridge of his nose, taking a deep breath. “I cannot believe you.” 

“Hey, man, at least it wasn’t your money this time, right?” Chad jokes.

“No. It was Jensen’s and it was for _charity_ , which makes it worse. _God._ Just,” he sighs. “Meet me at my apartment. We’ll figure out a way to get the money somehow.”

“Jay, man, I really don’t think we can get that much--”

“Just do it, Chad,” Jared cuts him off, and ends the call. 

God. What a mess.

He stands there for a few moments, just breathing, hands clenched. He has to go back to the living room, though, before the others notice he’s been gone too long, so he forces himself to calm down, smoothing out his expression. 

Jensen immediately catches his eye when he enters the living room. “All right?” he mouths, brows furrowed. Jared nods and forces a smile, even though he isn’t.

He isn’t close to being all right.

Just as he predicted, they leave around noon. Just like when they arrived, there’s hugs all around, only this time Jensen is included in those. “Come back whenever you want,” Sherri says as he wraps his arms around her. “And maybe bring my son with you sometimes.”

Jensen chuckles. “Sure.” He pulls back and turns to Laura, giving her a hug. “It was really good meeting you Laura,” he mutters. “And you’ve got a great family.”

She smiles warmly at him. “That I do.” 

He’s a little wary when Megan comes up to him, but she just beams at him. “You should call me when you use those yoga certificates, tell me how it goes. I’ve heard the teachers there are great, but you know, you can never tell until you take the class. Jared can give you my number.” 

“Sure,” he says, dreading, inwardly, the classes in question. But he’s pretty sure she’d be able to tell if he just lied and said he’d gone. 

Her smile grows wider and she wraps her arms around him, squeezing tight. 

Looks like he got her seal of approval, after all. 

Jeff and Jerry don’t hug him, the former instead clapping him enthusiastically on the shoulder and Jerry choosing a much more sedate, if heartfelt, handshake. “Good to meet you, Jerry,” he tell the man. 

“I see you’ve finally dropped the ‘sir‘.”

“Yes, sir,” Jensen says with a grin. 

Jerry laughs. 

The family waves them off as they drive away and Jensen slumps back into his seat when they’re out of sight. “So. I’m thinking this whole thing was a success, huh.” 

Jared nods and hums noncommittally, eyes on the road. Jensen frowns. “Hey, you all right?”

“What?” Jared asks, shooting him a strained smile over his shoulder. “Of course I am. It’s just… leaving home, you know? Always makes me sad, even if I like living in Dallas.”

Jensen nods and lets the subject drop. It makes sense after all, he’s seen first hand what a close knit family they are. It’s got to be hard leaving that behind, even if he’s only going a few hours away. 

The ride back to Dallas is like a distorted reflection of the first. Jensen keeps bringing up topics of conversation during the four hour drive, only for Jared to make short, un-interested comments. He gets tenser the longer the drive gets--hands tight against the steering wheel, shoulders stiff. At one point, he turns on the radio, only to frown at every station before turning it off again in frustration. 

Jensen isn’t sure what to do. 

When they finally drive into Dallas, Jensen speaks up, thinking maybe that Jared needs to be reassured that Jensen isn’t pissed at him anymore, and that the night before wasn’t just a one time thing. 

“So are you going to kidnap me for our next date?” he teases. “Just to keep up the tradition? I know how much of a stickler you are for tradition.”

“I dunno,” Jared says vaguely, giving him a sickly smile. “We’ll just have to see.” Then he goes back to driving.

Well. So much for that plan. 

“Am I dropping you off at your place?” Jared asks. 

Jensen shakes his head, thinking of Chris waiting for him, with Jeff and the police. “Nah. Let’s go to yours. It’ll be quicker and I’m dying to get out of this car.” 

Jared nods, but doesn’t say anything else. 

They pull up to Jared’s apartment fifteen minutes later, but Jared doesn’t make any move to leave the car after he parks, holding onto the wheel and staring out of the windshield like he’s making a decision. 

“Jensen,” finally turning to look at him, face anxious. “I have something to tell you.” 

Jensen furrows his brows. “Yeah?”

“Last night--”

There’s a knock on his window. 

Jensen turns around and his eyes widen. “Chris!” he exclaims, quickly opening the door. “What are you doing here?” Chris grabs his arm, roughly dragging him away from the car and onto the sidewalk. “What? Hey, what are you--”

He cuts himself off when he sees the policemen, five of them, surrounding Jared’s car, guns drawn. “Jared Padalecki,” one of them calls out. “You are under arrest. Come out of the car with your hands above your head.” 

Jensen whirls on Chris. “What the hell? How do you even know his name? Or where he lives?”  
“I had Jeff,” he nods at the older man, just a few feet away, “figure out who’s phone it was that you were calling from. There was only one Padalecki in Dallas, a Jared Padalecki, who was listed as the son of the people who’s house you called from.”

Jeff walks up to him and places a hand on his shoulder. “You okay, son?” he asks, peering at Jensen’s face in concern, as if looking for signs of abuse or trauma. “I was really worried when I got the call from Chris telling me you were in trouble.” 

Jensen stares back at him, at the kind, familiar face of his father’s law partner, almost an uncle to him growing up and the only remaining tie he has to his family, and for a moment he wants nothing more than to tell Jeff everything: the kidnapping and the horrible ride to San Antonio, the crazy situation he found himself in and all the anger and confusion that went along with it, his initial resentment towards Jared and how that feeling changed into something more intense than he thought he could handle, the family he stayed with who he couldn’t help but fall in love with, and just how wonderful it felt to be a part of something like that again, to be accepted, cared for, even,.

He wants to tell him everything, just like he used to when he’d call Jeff up during law school, back when he realized that he couldn’t talk to his dad about any frustrations or fears he had about his studies, that they’d only be seen as a weakness, and Jeff had always taken time out to calm Jensen down from any sleep deprived, caffeine induced manias he happened to have. 

Jeff frowns at his silence and squeezes his shoulder gently, and Jensen almost begins to tell the whole story, right there in the middle of the apartment parking lot. 

But ten feet away Jared has gotten out of the car, and Jensen sees the panicked, scared look on his face as the cops frisk him and read him his rights. 

Jensen shakes his head dismissively. “I‘m fine, Jeff. _Really._ ” He says when Jeff just frowns doubtfully. Stepping out of Jeff’s hold on his shoulder Jensen turns to Chris. “I tried to call you to tell you things changed, Chris. Why the hell didn’t you pick up?”

Chris scowls at him, rubbing one hand wearily over the back of his neck. “We’ve been staking out the apartment all night. My phone died and I forgot the car charger.” 

Jensen raises his eyebrows. “Staking it out?”

“Yeah. And we caught him,” he gestures at a cop car parked near the wall of building, where Jensen can see Chad is sitting in the back, “just a few hours ago. He told us the story, about the kidnapping and the ransom--and only you would get kidnapped for someone’s Christmas, for god’s sake--and how he lost the money.” 

“He what?” Jensen gazes quickly switches from the outline of Chad’s head in the window to Chris, not sure he heard right. 

“He lost it, Jensen. Last night gambling apparently.” 

Jensen’s stomach drops, and he suddenly feels sick. 

Slowly, he turns to where Jared is being handcuffed. He walks over to him, brushing off Chris’s hands when he tries to pull him back. Jared looks at him anxiously over the top of the car. “Jensen, I--”

“You knew.” Jensen cuts him off. “The phone call. You _knew_ that Chad lost the money. That was _hours_ ago and you didn’t tell me.” 

“I was going to, Jensen,” Jared swears, face earnest. “I was trying to tell you a few minutes ago, I just didn’t know how and I didn’t want you to think that was part of the plan or something. It just… It just happened. I‘m so sorry.” 

Jensen snorts bitterly. “Right.” 

He feels like an idiot. Falling for his kidnapper, convincing himself that he actually was a good guy. 

God, he wasn’t even going to _tell_ him. “What were you going to do?” he asks, “drop me off at my apartment, promise to bring the money the next day and then skip town?” 

And Jensen would probably have waited too, trusting him. 

“Jesus, I’m a fool,” he mutters angrily, looking away from Jared and running one hand roughly through his hair. 

“Jensen, _no._ I wouldn’t. I wouldn’t do that to you. You know that.”

The cop behind Jared starts to pull him away, dragging him to the police car. “Wait. Jensen,” he calls out, eyes locked on him, voice pleading. “Jensen _please._ You have to believe me.”

Jensen watches him being dragged away, feeling sick to his stomach. He should be enjoying this, should be filled with righteous anger at the site of his kidnapper, the guy who seduced him then betrayed him, being shoved into a cop car. At the very least he should be feeling relieved. But as angry as he is, he still feels terrible at the thought of Jared behind bars.

Jensen takes a deep breath. 

“Wait,” he tells the cops. “You’ve got it wrong. These two didn’t kidnap me, you’ve been misinformed. I went with this man voluntarily.” 

“Jen, what are you--” he holds up a hand to cut Chris off.

The cops holding Jared studies him seriously. “Are you sure, sir? Keep in mind that he can’t hurt you in any way. You don’t have to protect him.”

“I’m not,” Jensen says shortly, avoiding Jared’s eyes. “I’m just telling you the truth. I was with Mr. Padalecki and his family for Christmas. You can call and ask them to verify. I had plenty of opportunities to leave if I wanted to.” 

The cop hesitates, looking past Jensen to Jeff standing behind him. Jensen turns to look at him himself, giving him a short but firm nod. Jeff studies him for a moment before turning to the police. “Let them go. I’m afraid we’ve had a communication problem. This has all been a misunderstanding.” 

The cop is still reluctant, looking back and forth from Jensen to Jared, so Jeff walks up to the man, placing a hand on his shoulder to guide him away, speaking in low undertones. Jensen doesn’t have to listen to the conversation, he knows just what Jeff Morgan’s power and influence can do. 

Jared’s just feet away, still cuffed and guarded by another officer, pleading gaze fixed on Jensen.

Jensen doesn’t look at him. 

“You realize, Mr. Morgan,” the first officer is saying as he and Jeff walk back, “that there’s going to be quite a few questions still. Your client will have to come down to the station to answer them.” 

“Yes, I understand,” Jeff replies seriously, “and he’ll be happy to answer all of your questions at a later time.” 

The man gestures to the other police officer and Jared is uncuffed. As soon as he is they walk away, leaving him to rub at his wrists and stare at Jensen while they go to release Chad.

It’s just Jared and Jensen by the car now. Chris and Jeff linger back, eyes watchful. 

“Jensen,” Jared says cautiously, taking a step forward.

Jensen holds up one hand and steps back, shaking his head. “Stop Jared. Just stop.” He meets Jared’s eyes, expression blank. “We’re done. I’m not going to press charges, but we are done.” He chuckles humorlessly. “We shouldn’t even have started.” 

“But Jen,” Jared pleads. “You have to understand--”

“No,” he says tiredly. “I don‘t. I don‘t owe you anything.” 

Jared doesn’t say anything to that and they stare at each other a moment. Jensen’s jaw tight and flexing with the strength of his emotions, Jared’s eyes sad, defeated. 

He turns away. “Come on, Chris. Let’s get out of here,” he mutters shortly, stalking over to where Chris parked.

Chris hesitates for a moment, then catches up to him. “Need to get anything out of the guy’s car?”

Jensen thinks about the luggage in the trunk, about the bag filled with the clothes Jared bought him, the watch Sherri and Jerry gave him, the yoga book with the certificates in them. He shakes his head. “No, let’s just go.”

They do, getting into Chris’s car and hurriedly driving away. Jensen’s silent in the passenger seat beside Chris. He doesn’t look out the side window as they leave, doesn’t watch Jared and his apartment fade from sight.

Just a few minutes after Jensen leaves so do all the cops, shooting Jared and Chad suspicious glares as they get back into their police cruisers. Jared is left standing by his car in the empty parking lot, staring down the street where Chris’s car disappeared, hyper aware of the curious looks coming from his neighbors’ windows and feeling more than a little pathetic.

Chad shuffles up from behind him to lean against the passenger side door. “Shit! I thought we were done for. What the hell kind of lie did you come up with to make them let us go?”

Jared whirls on him, the sudden rush of anger making his pulse beat loudly in his ears, hands clenched at his sides and mouth already open, ready to tear into him for being the most irresponsible, reckless idiot he’s ever seen, ready to curse him out for screwing everything up when they just started work out--hell, for coming up with the damn stupid scheme to begin with--but stops when he gets a good look at him. 

Chad looks like hell. He’s got a busted lip, a black eye, and bruises along his left jaw and cheekbone. He’s holding his right shoulder oddly, like it hurts, and there’s still blood encrusted in the roots of his blond hair. 

He’s also grinning, wide and relieved, meeting Jared’s eyes like they’re sharing a joke, like they got away with something and any moment now Jared is gonna hold out a fist for Chad to bump and then they’ll head back inside for celebratory beers and a recap of the whole thing, drunkenly laughing about how close a call it was. 

Jared sighs, resigned. Being angry with him is pointless. Chad is just… Chad, and trying to yell at him or talk some sense into him would be like trying to make hole through a mountain with his fist: futile and painful.

“Come on, man,” he says wearily. “Let’s go inside. I’ll help you get cleaned up.”

He makes his way across the lot to his apartment, not bothering to get his bags out of the car, and Chad obediently limps behind him. He sees the curtains move in the window of the apartment next to him, his neighbor sliding them closed to pretend unsuccessfully that she hadn’t been spying on the whole scene and thinks, idly, that a week ago, the idea of his neighbors seeing Jared be held at gun point and handcuffed by _five_ cops would have shamed and embarrassed him enough to move out. 

Now he couldn’t care less. 

When they get inside Jared immediately directs Chad to the bathroom to wash the blood off, and he goes to the freezer to get some ice. Not that he really thinks it would help--it’s been like, what, ten hours since the guys Chad was gambling with last night beat the shit out of him in a back alley?--but he figures it couldn’t hurt. Chad seems grateful for it anyway, taking the cloth wrapped ice as he comes out of the bathroom with another grin, and pressing it against the side of his face with a small hiss as he sinks onto the couch. Jared opts to lean his back against the wall caddy-corner from it, slumping forward to shove his hands in his pockets and hunching his shoulders around his ears. 

“Seriously, Jay,” Chad says from the couch. “How the hell are we not in jail right now?”  
Jared sighs, straightening his shoulders and tilting his head back. It hits the wall with a soft _thump_ and he stares up at the ceiling. There’s a yellow stain forming above the window. He thinks it’s spread while he was gone. “Jensen,” he finally answers. “He’s told them he went with me willingly.”

Chad sits up, pulling the ice off his eye to stare at Jared incredulously. “Really? That guy? I thought for sure he would do all that was possible to see our asses rotting in prison. He _hates_ us.”

Jared looks down at the floor. “Yeah,” he says quietly.

Chad studies him for a moment. “Holy shit.” 

Jared looks up. “What?”

“You _slept_ with him.” 

He stares at Chad, jaw dropped slightly in shock. “H-how? I mean--”

Chad jumps up with a whoop. “You _seduced_ the fucker! Wow, Jay,” he walks around the beat up coffee table to pat Jared on the shoulder, shit eating grin on his face. “I didn’t think you had it in you to do something like that. Who’s the criminal master mind now?” he crows, throwing his head back as he practically cackles. 

Jared angrily brushes Chad off, stalking past him to the middle of the room. “Shut up, Chad. That’s not what happened.”

“Oh yeah? So you didn’t sleep with him?”

Jared looks away guiltily, running a harried hand through his hair. “Well. It just. It was--” he sighs, dropping his hand. “It wasn’t like that,” he mutters tiredly.

Chad’s eyebrows crease in confusion. “Then what was it like?” 

Jared just stares at him helplessly.

Realization dawns on Chad’s face. “Oh. Oh, _shit_ , Jay. You didn’t. Please tell me you didn’t fall for the guy we kidnapped. Not even you could be that stupid.” 

Jared collapses down onto the coffee table, slumping forward and burying his face in his hands. “I know,” he mutters into the skin of his palms. “But apparently I am.”

“Man, I _told you._ I told you not to let yourself think it was real. Did I not say that to you?” He can hear frantically pacing the room. He was probably waving his arms too. “Did I not say, ‘he’s not really your boyfriend, Jay.’ Huh? Didn’t I? But nooo. Jared has to go and fall in love with the guy. He can’t have a steady relationship with anybody else he meets, but the guy he kidnapped and cuffs to his car is the one for him.” 

“Alright, Chad!” Jared interrupts, lifting his head up to glare at his friend. “I get it. I’m a moron. You don’t have to keep going on about it.”

Chad falls silent, finally stopping his pacing to sit on the armchair across from Jared. Jared slumps forward again, bracing his forehead against his palms and digging his fingers into his hair. He can feel Chad’s curious gaze on him but doesn’t meet it, choosing instead to study the stains on his carpet. 

“Well,” Chad says quietly. “There might be hope. I mean, he let us go, right? And obviously _something_ happened between you two while you were at your parents‘, so he probably feels the same, right?” 

Jared gives a bitter snort. “Not anymore,” he bites out. “He thinks I was part of losing the money, that not giving it back was part of the plan the whole time. He’s not going to want to see me again,” he mutters lowly. 

Chad’s quiet for moment, then sucks in a breath. “Jay, man. I’m so sorry. If I’d have known--”  
Jared waves him off. “Don’t bother.” He chuckles humorlessly. “I should have known something like this would happen. It’s my own fault for thinking it would work out to begin with.” 

Jared rubs his hand over his face and stands up. He picks up the abandoned icepack--now partially melted and seeping through the dish towel--and makes for the kitchen. Chad watches him silently for a minute, then speaks up, voice stopping Jared at the doorway. 

“You really liked him, didn’t you, huh?”

Jared exhales a deep breath, shoulders slumping. “Yeah.”

That was the end of the conversation.

Chad leaves ten or so minutes later and Jared is finally alone in his apartment. He stares at the ugly beige walls with the water stains, the funky colored carpet, the worn couch. He’s never really liked it, but it seems bleaker now, somehow. He avoids the couch and sits on the old rocking chair in the corner instead. There’s a wad of tape clinging to the arm rest. Jared picks it up, crushes it in his hand.

Jensen was the last person to sit here. 

He buries his face in his palm, shaking. 

This morning everything was perfect, Chad’s crazy idea had worked out great. Not only did his family believe that Jensen was his boyfriend, but Jensen…

Jensen. 

Shit. He’s never going to talk to Jared again.

Hands shaky, Jared does what he usually does when something bad happens: he pulls out his phone and calls his sister. 

“Jared?” she answers. “You’re calling already? Did you forget something?”

“Meggie,” he says, voice hoarse. “I think I fucked up.”

She’s quiet for a moment. And then:

“Tell me everything.”

Jared takes a deep breath.

New Years Eve is spent at his apartment with Chris, beers in one hand, bowl of popcorn on the table, and the Syfy marathon of _The Twilight Zone_ on the TV. Chris tried to get Jensen to go out, to get a few friends together and have fun, but when he’d refused he’d shown up uninvited at Jensen’s place, a case of beer in his hands.

“Man,” Chris says after the third episode that passes in silence. “You need to stop moping.”

“I’m not moping.” Jensen takes a sip of his beer.

“Yeah, Jen, you are.” 

“No I’m not. I’m just too busy watching this show to talk to your ugly face. What do you think, will William Shatner stay forever in the town with the little fortune box?”

“You know he won’t,” Chris sighs. “You’ve seen this episode twenty times. And you’ve been moping for days. Ever since we left Jared’s place.”

Jensen tenses at the mention of Jared. “I don’t know what you’re talking about,” he snaps.

“Sure you do.” Chris waves a hand in the air. “Jared. Tall guy. Floppy hair. Kidnapped you and stole the community center money and yet you decided not to press charges. And you’ve been pouting like you’d lost your long lost love ever since.” 

Jensen tightens his fist around his beer bottle, glaring at him. “He’s not my _long lost love._ ” 

“You sure about that?” Chris smirks. “’Cause I’ve never seen you forgive and let things go when there’s a chance you could take up the issue and fight, and you didn’t even consider making Jared pay for kidnapping you. That tells me something.”

Jensen stares hard at the fabric seam of his couch. “Maybe I’ve got Stockholm Syndrome or something.”

Chris snorts. “You ain’t got Stockholm Syndrome.” He puts his beer on the coffee table and holds up one hand, ticking off his fingers. “You were in no life threatening danger, you weren’t isolated with Jared as your only form of human contact, and you didn’t depend on him for necessary things like food and water--from what little you‘ve told me, I’d say you actually had _more_ food than usual--so you haven’t been psychologically screwed to be dependent on him.”

Jensen stares at him. “How do you know all that stuff?”

“What did you think I did when you came back in love with your kidnapper? I researched it.”

“I’m not in love with him.” Jared protests, but it’s weak. 

“I’m not sure about that Jensen.”

Jensen doesn’t reply, staring unseeingly at the TV instead. 

“Maybe you should give him a call,” Chris says softly. “From the way I understand it, his friend is the one that screwed up and lost the money. Maybe you should let it go. For once in your life, stop fighting, stop trying to be so strong and independent, and just let yourself be happy.”

Jensen’s quiet, so Chris lets it go, allowing them to get back to the show. It’s a good thing Jensen has seen this episode before, because he doesn’t absorb a thing, too lost in his own thoughts.

Chris doesn’t bother him about Jared again, doesn’t even mention the kidnapping or Christmas, apparently going along with Jensen’s wish to put it all behind him and pretend that it never happened. Jensen has better luck on the outside than on the inside, mind continuously going back to the time he spent with Jared in San Antonio, idle thoughts about what Laura or Sherri were doing right then, if Megan was still expecting Jensen to call about the yoga class, involuntarily imagining what would happen if he were to run into Jared somewhere around Dallas. But it’s not until a week after New Years Eve that he talks to anyone about Jared Padalecki at all, and that time it’s not by Jensen’s choice.

Chad Michael Murray shows up at the homeless shelter he’s volunteering at. 

“I’m not serving you,” he says flatly when Chad holds up his paper plate for mashed potatoes. 

“Aw, come on dude,” he pouts. “Don’t be like that. Why not?” he asks when Jensen doesn’t budge.

“You’re not homeless.”

“So? You mean to tell me that every single person who comes here is _always_ homeless? There’s never some poor college student, or starving artist or cheapskate loser who just wants free food?”

“Like you?” Jensen spits out meanly.

Chad just grins and shrugs, unrepentant. “Like me. So? Do you always turn them away too?”

“I’m not serving _you_ ,” he says again, emphasizing the last word with an angry thrust of the spoon in his hand. A glomp of mashed potatoes slides off and lands on the serving table between them with a small _splat._

Chad smirks. Jensen glares. 

Finally, Chad sighs. “Fine,” he says, passing his plate, which was already piled high with green beans and fried chicken, to a woman passing behind him to get to the end of the line. “I just came to talk to you anyway.” He gestures to an empty corner of the room, waving at Jensen to come with him.

Jensen snorts. “Like I’m going anywhere with you. How about you just leave before I call the police and have you arrested for kidnapping,” he threatens.

Chad doesn’t look worried. “If you do that then you have to press charges against Jared too. And if you really wanted that you would have done that two weeks ago.” 

He sounds absolutely confident about this fact, and Jensen scowls, nothing to say to that.

“Come on,” Chad says, for once sounding serious. “Just a few minutes. Nothing’s going to happen here, with all these people around.”

Jensen considers it, looking around at the four long tables full of people eating, the kitchen staff through the window and his friend and fellow volunteer, Danneel, just ten feet away, passing out cookies at the end of the serving table. “Fine,” he sighs, putting the spoon down into the potatoes and wiping his hands on his apron. “Hey, Danni,” he calls out. “Can you cover the mashed potatoes for a minute?” 

She looks over at him, eyes flickering from Jensen to Chad in curiosity. “Sure,” she shrugs. “People can just grab their own cookies, I guess.” 

Jensen smirks at her. “I’m sure they’ll follow the rules and only take two, don’t worry.”

She rolls her eyes at him, shoving past him to grab the spoon, bright smile ready on her face for the next person in line. “Mashed potatoes?” she asks cheerfully.

He reluctantly follows Chad to the empty corner between the doorway to the kitchen and the basket of mini butter tubs. He makes sure that he’s not the one backed into the corner and crosses his arms, frowning. “All right. What do you want?”

Chad rubs awkwardly at his shoulder, eyes roaming around the room, as if, now that he has Jensen willing to listen to him, he’s not sure where to start. “Look man,” he finally says, “Jared really had nothing to do with losing the money, that was all me. I fucked up. There wasn‘t some kind of plan to steal the money and try to make you not care about it or anything like that. And Jared is just as pissed off about it as you are.”

“You can just stop right there.” Jensen holds up one hand, shaking his head. “I really don’t want to hear it, the whole thing is over as far as I’m concerned. I never should have thought--” he cuts himself off with a sigh before looking Chad straight in the eye. “I really don’t care,” he says as firmly as he can, trying to convince both himself and Chad.

Apparently, he’s not very convincing because Chad looks skeptical. “Yeah, well, Jared does,” is his reply, and he digs into his front pocket pulling out sloppily folded envelope. “Here,” he says, handing it over. “This is from Jared. He was going to try and find you raddress so he could mail it to you, but I saw it on his kitchen table and thought to bring it to you instead. Save him the postage.”

Jensen takes it cautiously, not sure if he wants to open it. Is it a letter? He’s not sure if he could handle reading a letter from Jared right now, or ever. But at the same time, he’s curious as to what he has to say. Slowly, he tears it open, slipping his fingers inside to pull the contents out.

There’s no letter, but a check, written out to the community center Jensen had been raising money for, and signed by Jared Padalecki.

It was for four thousand and thirty-two dollars.

“How?” Jensen breathes, eyes wide as he stares at the check. “How did he do this? Get all the money?”

Chad shrugs. “No idea. But I think it’s safe to say that Jared will be living off of peanut butter and Ramen for the next few months at least. _That’s_ how much he cares.”

Jensen doesn’t say anything in reply, can’t say anything, too busy tracing the lines of Jared’s signature with his eyes before going back to the amount scribbled in the small box on the check, barely believing what he sees.

Chad stares hard at him. He apparently finds something that satisfies him on Jensen’s face because he suddenly claps his hands together. “Great. Well, my work here is done,” he says briskly. “Oh, here.” He pulls something else out of his jacket pocket, holding his hand out to Jensen.

He’s holding the handcuffs. “Take these.” He shoves them into Jensen’s hands, giving him no choice but to accept them. “No idea what you and Jared did with them, and I really don’t want them anymore. Jared has the key. So. You know. Go have fun.” 

He winks at him and taps Jensen lightly on the shoulder with his fist, giving a careless “See you around,” before striding past him, detouring to snag a cookie from the table before heading out the door. 

Numbly, Jensen slips the check back into the envelope and folds it up, pocketing both it and the handcuffs. He takes a moment to gather himself together, to push the confusion and conflicting emotions away for another moment, and then walks back to the serving table. He calmly takes the spoon from Danneel, thanks her for covering for him and goes back to spooning out clumps of lumpy potatoes to the line of people who keep coming through. 

Or he tries at least.

“Was that Jared?” Danneel asks, not going back to her spot by the cookies immediately, like he thought she would. 

“What?” he exclaims, surprised. “No! And how do you know about Jared anyway?” he asks suspiciously. 

She shrugs. “Chris told me.”

Jensen rolls his eyes. Of course. God forbid his friends not keep each other informed on every bit of drama in his life. 

“Well who was it then?” 

Jensen tries to avoid answering, smiling at the man across from him as he plops down some potatoes on his plate and asking him if he wanted more than that, but Danneel just pokes him when the guy moves on, eyebrows raised expectantly.

He gives in. “Chad.”

“Oh. The other one who kidnapped you.” 

“Yes,” he hisses through gritted teeth. Leave it to Chris to share every detail. 

When he doesn’t expand on that, she pokes him again. “So what did he want?”

He huffs out a sigh, resigned to actually talking about his. “He wanted to assure me that Jared didn’t have anything to do with losing the money, and that he was just upset about it as I was. And that he _cares_ , apparently.” He leaves out the check, not wanting to talk about that when he’s still reeling and unsure from it. 

Danneel seems to take a few moments to process this. “So…does this mean you are going to go talk to him?”

Jensen looks at her sharply. “Why would I do that? He kidnapped me. People usually don’t have genial relationships with their kidnappers, Danni.”

She rolls her eyes at him. “Oh, please. Don’t act like that’s all he is to you. You’ve been miserable these past two weeks.”

“What? I have not,” he protested.

“Jensen, I know you,” she tells him seriously. “You get all determined and workaholic when you’re upset. You’ve been here and at the food bank _three times_ as much as you usually are, and you’ve volunteered and donated money to every extra charity you could find. You haven’t been this obsessed with doing good since the thing with your family.”

Jensen’s quiet. One of the shelter’s regulars hears Danneel‘s speech--a tall, bean pole of a man with a scruffy beard and long, dull red hair that’s covered in a ragged hat-- and gives him a sympathetic look. Jensen wordlessly serves him the potatoes. 

Danneel sighs. “I’m just saying you should consider it. It’s about time you had something more in your life than just collecting canned corn and passing out fried chicken and lumpy potatoes.” 

When he doesn’t reply she gives up, going back to the cookie basket and leaving him alone.

Jared has barely been home from work fifteen minutes before there’s a knock on his door. “Just a minute!” he calls out, and groans as he gets up from his spot on the couch. Shuffling tiredly to the front door, he quickly releases the chain and flips the deadbolt over, swinging the door open.

“Yeah--Jensen!”

Jensen is standing on his stoop, a tight, unsure expression on his face and wearing the same jacket he’d worn the first time Jared saw him.

Jared stares at him, eyes wide, mouth open. 

Jensen gives a little wave. “Hi.” 

Jared blinks. “H-hi. Uh, what are you doing here?” He looks past Jensen and into the street, a little worried that he was about to be arrested, that Jensen changed his mind. 

“There’s no police,” Jensen tells him. “I promise. I just came to talk.”

“Oh. Well, come in, I guess.” He opens the door wider, fidgeting nervously as Jensen passes him. 

There’s an awkward moment while he closes the door and they make their way to the living room, standing five feet apart and looking at everything but each other. Jensen still hasn’t said why he’s there to begin with. 

“Um,” Jared says when he finally can‘t take the silence anymore. “It‘s good that you came by. I was going to send you something, but I had some trouble finding your address. Not that I’m stalking you or anything, that would be creepy, but I’ve been looking around the internet and the white pages for it and I guess you’re unlisted because I haven’t been able to find it and wow, that really does sound like stalking, actually, but I’m not I promise. I just--” he stops abruptly, realizing he was babbling. “ Just wanted to give you something,” he finishes lamely.

“Something like this?” he asks with what Jared would swear was a small, amused smile. He pulls out an envelope Jared recognizes.

Jared stares at it in shock. “How did you get that?” He peers into the foyer and at the secretary, where Jared keeps his keys and mail. He could have sworn that he put that envelope there yesterday. He has no idea how Jensen could have gotten it.

“Chad brought it to me,” Jensen explains. “He showed up at the shelter yesterday.”

“Oh,” Jared replies, still feeling a little lost. Then his face falls. “So you won’t accept it? That’s why you’re here? To give it back?”

Jensen doesn’t answer, turning the envelope thoughtfully in his hands. “How did you manage to get so much together in such a short time anyway?” he asks instead, eyes fixed intently on Jared.

Jared shrugs uncomfortably. “Oh, you know. Got an advance on my paycheck, made some people who owed me pay me back finally, emptied out my savings account. It was difficult, but it’s all there. This way, it’s like I paid for Chad’s gambling addiction. Which really, wouldn’t be the first time.” He chuckles nervously.

Very carefully, Jensen places the envelope down on the coffee table. 

Jared’s stomach drops. “So you won’t take it?”

“It’s not that,” Jensen says. “That’s just not what I want to talk about right now.” Jensen pauses over the table, looking over the stack of pamphlets and enrollment papers he left there. “Going back to school then, huh?” He picks up the shiny booklet for the university, idly flipping through it. 

“Uh, yeah,” Jared says, running a hand nervously over the back of his neck. “I mean, I’m thinking about it. Shouldn’t let all those credits go to waste, should I? I’m not completely sure though, still thinking about it.” 

“You should do it,” Jensen says firmly, looking up from the book to meet Jared’s eyes.

“Yeah?” Jared asks, a grin slipping involuntarily to his face. “You think?” Jensen nods, dropping the pamphlet back on the table. “Oh, well, thanks.” he says uncertainly. Not wanting to let on just how much Jensen’s opinion means to him. “What did you want to talk about then?”

“Us,” Jensen says simply, eyes studying Jared.

Jared sucks in a breath. “O-oh. There’s--There’s an us?” There’s that small smile on Jensen’s face again, and Jared can’t help the rush of hope that pours through him, that had been there, admittedly, since he’d opened the door and seen him on his steps. 

“There could be.” Jensen says seriously, taking a step toward Jared. “What do you say we start over, get a fresh start. One without all the fuck ups from last time.” Another step.

Jared smiles widely as he lets out a relieved breath, dimples showing as he mirrors Jensen, taking a step forward to meet him. “Yeah. Yeah, I think that sounds--that sounds great.”

Jensen nods, taking one more step so they are chest to chest. “Good.” Then Jared‘s wrist is suddenly grabbed, cold metal slipping around it before he has the chance to react. He gapes down at the handcuffs that now chain him and Jensen together. “Then it’s my turn to kidnap _you,_ ” Jensen smirks. 

Jared throws his head back and laughs, grabbing Jensen’s cuffed hand with his own and interlacing their fingers. “That’s fine. Except there’s one problem.” He walks forward, pressing Jensen up against the living room wall, leaning his head forward so they are barely an inch away.

“Yeah? And what’s that?” Jensen asks breathlessly. 

Jared brings their interlaced hands up between their chests, squeezing his hand. “I lost the key in San Antonio,” he whispers. Then he leans the rest of the way down and kisses him. 

Jensen kisses back, gripping on Jared’s shoulder with his free hand to pull him closer. He smiles at Jared when they pull apart. “We’ll call a locksmith tomorrow.”


End file.
